Kuroshitsuji: His Butler, Merely a Pawn in His Hand
by HorseCrazyAsian
Summary: London is still the home of strange occurrences, word of the death of the Queen's Guard Dog spreading quickly in the underworld, criminals ever more encouraged to do their dastardly deeds. Although the 'guard dog' may have left, the boy and his butler haven't. However, to challenge them comes a new face, accompanied by a familiar enemy who should be turning in his grave.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: My first Kuroshitsuji Fanfic! Yay! Prepare to be freaked out by my darker side lol. I do not take credit for any original Kuroshitsuji characters. They are owned by Yana Toboso alone. I will, however, take credit for my OC: Felix Baxter II. **

**A little information about this story that I think you should know... It takes place after the events of the second season. Ciel is a demon. Other than that, I think it'll be pretty clear as this story progresses. :) **

**Warning: This Fanfiction is quite dark and disturbing in some places, so beware! Don't say I didn't warn you either, haha. **

**Other than that, enjoy! ^.^ Please leave a comment also! It would mean a lot and constructive criticism is always welcomed!**

**~HCA**

* * *

The night shone with lights of lanterns, the stars in the midnight blue sky above peering through the haze of the hour. The moon was not visible. It lay hidden behind a thick cloud, casting its shadow upon the city. London.

Cries were heard in the streets as a few insignificant individuals merrily wallowed in their drunkenness, swaying upon their unsteady feet, slurring to their hearts' desires. The racket was normal for the lateness of the time, and it was a scheduled occurrence for those who heard it behind thin walls.

It was a very unwelcoming sight for the pair of hazel eyes that peered behind the pane of glass, high up in the mansion that stood surrounded by the iron gates. A trickle of water slid down the glass, streaking the youth's sight of the blabbering fools that continued on their way, stumbling upon their own shoes. He quickly let the curtains seam back together, the light that had shone through now reduced to a mere sliver, cutting through the darkness of his quarters.

The boy seemed afraid. Anxious. There was no telling of the exact hour, though it appeared as if the drunken pair had been enough of a sign. He had curled himself up in the corner of his room, stifling his shaky breath by burying his head against the knees that were folded up tightly to his shuddering chest. To speak would seem a sin to the small boy as he carefully remained still, his toes curling towards himself as if they could be seen if he did not. His small hands clutched at the fabric of his sleepwear, his knuckles turning white in the little light that was invited into his room.

The small flicker of a flame brightened the far side of the bedroom, the candle sunken halfway, wax dripping off the side and overflowing onto the deep mahogany of the nightstand. It dried as quickly as it fell, molding into little drops off the brass holder. The fire upon the wick glowed steady with a calming effect, fluctuating only as a cool draft blasted from underneath the closed door. The sudden intrusion was enough to extinguish the flame completely, the room falling into complete darkness with the sharp inhale of the youth.

It seemed the time had come. The child's grief written across his panicked expression as he tried his best not to cry. The cool air from the outside world induced goosebumps along the boy's neck and arms, his hair standing on end as his skin prickled with unease. He shut his eyes tightly, flinching as the sharp bang of a slamming door replaced the silence he had grown to cherish.

The sound had been like a gunshot; drawing his attention immediately and instilling the same dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach. His lips moved though his voice was not heard. Over and over he prayed, rocking his small form back and forth slowly. His pale-blonde hair swept over his closed eyes, clinging to the fresh tears that had begun to spill despite the youth's attempts. He dared not open his eyes and let the tears show.

Footsteps echoed through out the mansion, the large building allowing the sound to travel far, repeating it over and over to traumatize the boy further. Each grew louder as the owner grew nearer. The footfalls were purposeful, but unsteady. Uneven. The boy jumped as a hand slammed against the wall of his room from the hallway, the thud enough to make the child's eyes snap open as he gazed at the door, his eyes wide and glassy.

Slowly, the hand slid across the wall, pausing as it reached the molding of the door frame, roaming the dark wood before latching onto the brass handle. The knob turned little by little. So excruciatingly slow. The youth pressed his back against the wall until he could no more, wishing so desperately that he might just disappear into it. To just vanish. To awake from this horrid nightmare. The knob turned further, then clicked to a stop. The hand twisted again, finding the knob unable to turn all the way. It was locked. A raspy, breathy chuckle could be heard from behind the door, two feet obscuring the candlelight that stretched along the hardwood floor of the room, safely secured from the frightening figure. For now.

"Felix, boy. Open this door."

The boy's eyes were unblinking, tears still falling from the rims. His face was blanched to the point he looked ghostly, his shaking hands still clamped firmly on the fabric of his clothes. He did not respond.

"Felix..." the man crooned, his guttural voice sending shivers down the boy's spine as he let a small whimper of pure fear escape his closed lips, a small hand clapping over it to muffle the cries he could no longer contain. He crumpled into a sobbing mess, his fragile frame racking from the amount of tears that had begun to pour forth from him. He felt his stomach churn, his terror sickening.

"I can hear you," the voice sang.

Felix gasped, desperately trying to calm himself. His labored breathing made replying impossible as his cries grew louder and louder, falling to the floor as he sobbed on all fours, the plentiful tears dripping to the cold, wooden floor.

"Felix, my boy. Open this door."

"I-I w-won't!" the boy managed to scream out, his voice trembling off his quivering lips, dampened by the salty liquid.

"Open the door!" the voice bellowed, the stench of alcohol wafting towards the blubbering child.

Felix took deep breaths, controlling his whimpers as his eyes searched the room for anything. Anything to end this.

"Dare you disobey me!" The door shook as fists were thrown upon it, the man's anger like a poison as it seeped towards its victim causing the child to panic.

Struggling to his feet, Felix staggered forwards, his knees shaking as he drew open the drawers, fishing through his clothes and possessions for something of use. He slammed it shut finding nothing, his breath quickening as he frantically tore through his closet, the urge to cry dawning upon him as his attempts granted him nothing.

The door began to creak from the stress of the constant force pushing against it, the old and rusted hinge beginning to give way. The man doubled his efforts, driven on with the weakening frame. In a last attempt to escape, the boy threw himself under the bed, quickly slipping from sight as he curled into a ball, cradling his head with both hands as he covered his eyes, freezing as the wood split, crashing to the ground in a useless heap.

The man's heavy footsteps stopped as he stood in the middle of the room, his heavy breathing mixed with a strong alcoholic odor. The footsteps traveled to the far corner, opening the closet with a small creak, slamming it shut when nothing was found in it. The man walked to the dresser then to the window. It was sealed shut. The feet shuffled to turn, facing the bed in the middle of the room. One step. Another step. He kneeled, lifting the covers to reveal the trembling boy beneath. A wicked smile and chuckle was emitted.

"Found you."

Felix gasped, his shoulder grabbed roughly by a large, calloused hand. He screamed in protest, writhing with all his might as he was dragged out from under the bed and thrown against the wall. The boy's head slammed into the hard surface, his vision blackening for a second before his senses returned, his eyes fixed upon the unshaven and dirtied face of the man he knew as his father.

"You gave me a lotta trouble, you know that?" His father slurred, his filthy breath thick with liquor. Felix coughed, grimacing as the man shook him aggressively. "Answer me!"

"I-I'm sorry..." Felix whimpered, shutting his eyes as a sharp, stinging pain struck him across his face, his cheek swelling from the blow. He began to sob again, tears rolling over his bruised skin.

Another slap and another. The assault quickly escalated as the hands that struck clenched into fists, each delivering with powerful strength, relentlessly punishing the youth over and over.

"Stop! Stop!" Felix screamed, every part of him aching in agonizing jolts of pain. The attack stopped for a moment, the child taking the opportunity to cry softly to himself, too weak to accompany the tears with his sobs. He breathed raggedly, his chest rising and falling in extreme pain. He opened his swollen eyes to his father, his frown deepening as his eyebrows stitched together, his shaking form marked with dark bruises.

"I hate you! I hate you!" The boy screeched, his throat sore from the crying and the yelling. He shouted the three words over and over, his voice eventually disappearing entirely as the man struck him again and again.

Blood splattered the walls and decorated the floor, the night nearly passing before the child awoke, his eyes dry and lifeless. His gaze fell upon the scarlet drops next to him, his body in a crumpled mess on the floor. He grunted as he moved, a sharp spasm halting his action. It hurt so much. He felt his despair creeping on him again as his tired eyes screamed in protest, no tears left to give.

Unknown to most aside from the boy and his father, what actions had taken place were almost a nightly ritual. Every night his father would return, sent into a drunken state with his despair and hate. Every night he would intrude upon the boy and beat him within an inch of his life. This had become routine. Felix knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing. No one would listen to the boy who was never even allowed to leave his room. Meals were brought to him by faithful servants of his father, paid handsome salaries to speak not a word of this. He was not even allowed to leave the room to relieve himself. He was forced to reduce himself to soiling what clothes he had and waiting for a clean pair to be delivered to him.

The window was barred from the inside, and the iron rods were still unfazed by his many attempts of escaping into the world outside. He was given nothing to do but lay in his self-pity and hate. His anger. His fear. All he could do was stare out that window, hoping that maybe someday, someone would catch his gaze and offer him a friendly smile in return. One of concern. One of assistance. A promise they'd help him. But no promise had been made. No pair of eyes had ever so much glanced his way.

He once had believe he was invisible. Perhaps that was the reason he had not been rescued from this hell. Perhaps that's the reason the people kept walking. That perhaps, maybe his father was the only one who could see him. That maybe, he was so repulsing, he was punished for it. But his naïve innocence had long been cast away. He had grown to hate his father. To fear him. To loathe him to the point he could not bare to claim he was related to him.

He'd often fantasize of crushing his hands around the man's throat. To squeeze the life from his father's soul. To kill him with his own hands. Yet, there he lay. On the floor. Just as he had so many times before.

A tingling sensation danced upon his hand, his neck turning so he might see the cause. A single spider sat perched upon his tainted skin, it's many beady eyes staring back at him as his breath hitched in his throat. He felt the urge to brush it off, but his body would not allow him to. Instead, he gazed back at it, wonder and curiosity arising within him. The arachnid crawled forwards, stopping as it rested on Felix's shoulder.

The world seemed to fade away as a world of shadows enclosed the two. Nothing seemed to exist here. Only them. There was no sound except for the tapping of the spider's legs upon the fabric of his shirt, the miniscule creature spindling a web along the boy's shoulder.

_'What is your wish...'_

_'I wish to escape this.'_

_'What is your wish.'_

_'I wish to overcome this.'_

"What is your wish?"

"I wish to become the most powerful of all."

**"Yes, my Master."**


	2. Chapter 1: The Knight

**Author's Note: Again, I don't own the characters aside from my OC: Felix Baxter II. Yana Toboso owns the characters Sebastian and Ciel. Once again, enjoy! And please leave comments! I love to read your guys' opinions! :)**

**~HCA**

* * *

Bright sunlight stretched through the glass of the large bay window, peeking through the slits in the dark blue curtains that remained closed. What light did manage to shine through was cast upon a wooden floor, blanketed with an intricate rug of gold and red designs that swirled together to create a sea of colors. A small ray of sun reached the foot of the bed, the pale blue covers neatly tucked under the corners of the plump mattress, filled with the softest downy feathers that one should find. It was a bed fit for a king, the sturdy frame light in color to complement the gold that was found here and there.

The room itself was kept in mint condition. Not a speck of dust was found upon the pristine dresser, nor the nightstand that bore a flame-less candle held in an expensive gold base and plate to catch any stray drops of white wax that may happen to fall. Next to the golden tray laid an ivory chess piece. The object looked quite out of place in the whole respectively designed and schemed room, laying on its side. It was the piece of the knight. The horse resembling game piece stared down at its reflection in the wood, its mouth open as if to utter defeat in it's prostrate position.

However, a certain object that lay beside the beaten knight was even more peculiar. A black eye-patch. Silky material on the outside reflected the glow from the window, the ribbon curled about as if the item was just thrown upon the stand without a care. It very well may have been as the owner of the patch laid in the bed, safely tucked under the covers, deep in his slumber. He shifted slightly, his black, dark hair spread over the pillow, hiding his face partially from view.

His expression looked peaceful enough, though something seemed a bit off. Sleep seemed to fade away slowly as his skin tingled, his ears honing in on a distinct sound in the distance. His small hand underneath his pillow curled into a small fist, his eyes moving beneath his close eye lids. His small mouth frowned, the corners of his pale lips pulling down as he bent his head forward slightly. The sound drew closer. Constant in pace it never faltered. It become so close, it was too obvious to ignore. The youth clenched his fist, body becoming rigid as the sound became so unbearably loud.

Then it stopped.

Ciel snapped his crimson eyes open, body sitting upright in a flash just as the knob turned, a tall, thin man dressed in a black tailcoat stepping in. The Young Earl sighed slightly under his breath, allowing his eyes to return to their once natural cerulean state, his shoulders drooping somewhat as he relaxed. He watched the taller man with a dull expression as a silver tray was placed upon the night stand, the chess piece removed to provide some space for it.

The man's thin face, framed with raven black hair, was extremely pale. His thin lips formed a small smile as he looked closely at the knight in his gloved hand. His crimson eyes flitted from the chess piece to his Master for a moment as he considered what thoughts were running through his mind at that moment. The smile faded as it became a more inward smirk, the butler placing the ivory object upon the dresser, upright and standing tall. Still in the game.

"My apologies. I seemed to have startled you, Bocchan."

"Tch. As if," the boy merely replied stubbornly. In truth, he had been rather unsettled, but startled was something he wouldn't admit to the raven-haired man before him. "I am still adjusting. I merely heard you and thought it might be an intruder."

The lean man did not reply but dipped his head in acknowledgment, gracefully pouring the tea from the pot into a teacup upon a plate of a matching set. Today, it was a white ceramic cup with golden rims and a black rose with large, swooping stalks and poignant thorns. The butler tilted his head slightly, pondering the irony of such a design. It was so magnificently painted; the rose was soft and delicate, the edges left faded to allow its subtle beauty to freely flow. The swirling stems were thin and lighter in color, adding to the rose's significance upon the cup's face. However, in contrast to the whole design were the unsightly thorns. Almost crude in appearance, they were boldly thick and dark. How could something so beautiful, bear such ugliness on the outside. It seemed to lure you to smell the alluring aroma of the flower to draw you into its deadly thorns...

"Today's tea is an Earl Grey accompanied with raspberry scones," the butler carefully handed the youth the plate and the cup of steaming liquid, the light citrus scent appealing to the Earl as he took it in hand, blowing the steam away before he took a small sip, closing his eyes as the subtle flavor rested upon his tongue, though, it didn't taste quite like it used to.

Sebastian stepped back, watching his young master enjoy his tea. He would need to wait for him to finish before moving onto the next task of dressing him. He took the time to wait patiently, his eyes looking over the small changes that had taken over his Bocchan's body ever since that day.

For one, Ciel's fingers had become thinner in appearance, the pink flesh beneath the fingertip replaced by an ebony color. Even the master's skin had become paler, and the overall aura about him seemed to be tainted with demonic presence. His eyes had remained their clear blue, but he knew it was not their natural state anymore. Like himself, Ciel had taken an 'alternative' form. His human body before he had become a demon, had become his mask. His disguise to his himself in. Sebastian knew that behind those blue irises laid the blood-red that gazed up at him.

"Is something wrong?" Ciel inquired as he caught his butler's gaze, the latter's eyes narrowing slightly.

"Nothing, Young Master."

"Alright then," Ciel responded quietly, taking another sip of his tea before placing the cup down on his plate and then both onto the flat surface of the night stand. He let his arms fall back to his sides, awaiting Sebastian to clothe him.

The butler did as he was silently told to do, kneeling before his master as he unbuttoned the white sleep shirt, pulling it off the youth's shoulders before reaching into the pile of folded clothes on the bedside for a white undershirt. One arm at a time, Sebastian pulled the shirt over Ciel's bare upper body, buttoning it quickly through years of practice. Next he replaced Ciel's pants with a pair of shorts that came just above his knees and were black in color, pulling a pair of black stockings on immediately after. Following came the black dress shirt over the white undergarment, fastening it around his neck with a thin teal ribbon, much like the one attached to his eye patch except varied in color. Black boots were buttoned over the stockings, and a black top hat with a teal ribbon were placed upon the boy's charcoal hair. To finish it all, Sebastian pulled Ciel's blue coat over his shoulders, threading his arms through the sleeves and stepping back once his Bocchan had been fully dressed in his normal attire.

Ciel rose to his feet, hand outstretched until a cane was placed in his palm. The boy was still much shorter than the man before him, but he never let the butler feel as if he were any less important because of it.

"Sebastian,"

"Yes, My Lord?"

Demon gazed back at demon, each with unfaltering purpose. Ciel looked to the side casually to retrieve his cup of tea, taking another sip. He was in no hurry to inform the butler of what his wish was. He had all the time in the world.

Sebastian was not bothered by the boy's act, having grown accustomed to the child's constant games of establishing his status within this household. He never was certain why this was, but he assumed it was because Ciel felt others undermined him simply for appearing a mere child in their eyes. He, of course, could not look upon his Master with that state of mind. He was a butler, and would be forever. And as much as the thought dismayed the demon, he knew he must perform his job. He must be the best he could be. After all, he did take pride in being one hell of a butler.

Ciel lowered the cup from his lips, delicately placing it back upon the plate before proceeding.

"I expect to gather some information in town later this evening... You know the purpose."

"No doubt it's about the recent string of murders that has been causing panic in the streets, yes?" Sebastian offered the young master a scone, serving it on a plate with the perfectly baked pastry, the crust golden and delectable, placed in the center with a few assorted berries placed artistically along the side.

Ciel accepted the offer, the sweet and savory scent of the small tart drawing him in. He took a small bite, pleased in the outcome, but showed nothing of his satisfaction to the pair of eyes that watched him.

"All the victims were somehow tied to a certain company in the textile business: James and Mason. The company was named after the two founders, Sgt. James Leerag and Mason Dilney," Ciel took another bite of the exquisite sweet, placing the half finished pastry aside as he made it clear he was done for the day.

"All the victims were ordinary factory workers with no real wealth nor status. Mere commoners," Sebastian added as he placed the dished upon the silver platter, pushing a loose strand of his jet-black hair behind his pale ear.

"Mm," Ciel responded with a slight nod of his head. "There doesn't seem to be any real incentive to kill these men. They had nothing to offer. This looks like it could be a rather tough case to solve."

"Indeed," the butler responded as he straightened his posture, his gloved hands at his sides as he observed his young master think. The look upon his concentration told the taller demon that this case was in fact boggling his mind. It wasn't often that it stumped the young earl, but even he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Although Ciel was proclaimed dead, the child had insisted he maintain order in the underworld. Even having no incentive as to continue it for his revenge had been quenched, some part of the boy couldn't quite leave the life he had before completely. Though he had left everyone behind without so much as a second thought, he would not—could not—bear to leave this. Of course, Sebastian had come to know the reason for this after awhile, piecing it together within his clever mind.

"We shall leave when the sun sinks lower and it begins to get dark. I won't take a risk of going out in the day time. I'll need a better disguise, too."

"Yes, My Lord."

Sebastian had to admit it was quite a change being the only servant in the household, though it was certain he did most of the work himself in the past anyhow. He couldn't help but feel a little odd without the incapable trio always hollering for his help and pleading for his forgiveness. He certainly couldn't say he missed them. He truly didn't. He had never felt attached to the servants in the first place. The only reason he had found them was because they had special abilities and the will to protect the Phantomhive Manor from outside intruders and enemies. Other than that, he had no use for them.

He definitely would not miss the Chef Bardroy. Always, the blonde gun-nut insisted on cooking the food with new contraption he would sift out from his collection of insane weapons. He could literally count the number of times the chef had actually prepared something edible. On one hand.

Nor would he miss the ever so childish Finnian. The gardner was strong. He had to admit that. But though his physical strength had been supreme, the boy had been an emotional wreck. He remembered distinctly that it was the hardest for the boy to kill the troublesome hound when the time came to it. Ciel had to convince the youngster over and over that the Pluto they remembered was not in there anymore. The butler also could recall the countless times the gardner had pruned the trees to a bare row of sticks. Over and over he would scold the youth for chopping the trees in half with his sheathes just because the blonde had gotten so carried away and distracted. He didn't know how much money he gave to the free-spirit to replace the trees again and again. His eye twitched just at the thought of it.

And then came Mey-Rin. The maid had been a wicked sniper. She wouldn't even have to use the scope to hit the target right on its mark. He sometimes regretted ever giving her those pair of glasses. Somehow, the things had possessed her into becoming as incapable as the others. She would have been a fine maid if she'd just had taken the things off. Nevertheless, she had a few more pros to her than the other two, but she did have her many many faults. She was clumsy as anything, and she was always getting extremely nervous and bashful around him. Sometimes she couldn't even function properly around him. He'd ask her to do something and all he'd get was a pair of blank, doe-eyes behind the thick lenses.

There was also another person that he felt the need to remember. Tanaka. Surprisingly, the old man never really bothered him. He actually had found the elder's company rather pleasant. He didn't speak much, and when he did, it was usually a simple 'Ho ho ho.' There were the times when Tanaka would awaken from his dazed self and offer some pretty generous information, but it never really lasted long. You could say the old man knew when to step in and when he could just sit in a corner and drink his green tea.

Sebastian sighed, finishing with the dishes as he turned his attention to something else. The manor he was currently residing in with his Bocchan had been an abandoned one that was secluded and far from the town. Far forgotten you could say. Why Ciel wished to remain here was unknown to the butler, but he didn't question it. He supposed it could be from a great number of things, but one was for certain.

The loud announcement of the hour from the great clock in the foyer. It sounded multiple times, alerting the butler of the hour. It was nearly time to begin their trip to the town to investigate the brutal murders that had the whole town in a state of fear.

Swiftly, Sebastian made his way down the dark corridor, a lit candle in his hand. He knocked at the door to Ciel's makeshift office, turning the knob to open the door.

"Bocchan, I believe it is time to take our leave."

"I thought so," Ciel replied, his back turned to the door as he gazed out the window. A few scraggly branches blocked the view on the outside, but the darkening sky was clear enough of a sign. "Come, Sebastian. I must get ready."

Wordlessly, Sebastian followed Ciel, opening the door to the young Earl's bedroom where his disguise lay, folded and ready to be applied.

The butler placed the lit candle on the dresser alongside the knight chess piece, the horse still gazing ever so determinedly towards the future, standing ready and faithful to the command of the King.

Removing the blue coat and attire of his master except for the undershirt, Sebastian placed the ragged vest and pants upon the child instead. Scuffed boots and a dull, gray Gatsby hat. His eye-patch had been removed and replaced with a white cloth, something that would be more inconspicuous.

When Sebastian had finished, Ciel had been covered head to toe in commoners clothes and looked incredibly convincing in Sebastian's mind. For obvious reasons, his cane was to be left at home as was any other accessory that would look odd or recognizable.

It was quite a hassle, but it was measures they had to take. They could not risk Ciel being spotted and questions being asked. If word of the Earl ever reached the ears of anyone they had met in the past, their existence could be found out. And none of them wanted that.

Sebastian was clad in a long, brown trench coat, a top hat pushing his dark hair in front of his eyes. He wore black gloves instead of his uniformed white to cover the purple pentagram upon his left hand.

Now that both were dressed in fitting attire, Sebastian ushered Ciel towards the front door, opening it for the young boy before stepping out himself, closing it behind him with a loud, groaning creak. The cool air was fresh and crisp, the atmosphere slightly damp from recent downpour.

"Shall we, Young Master?"

Ciel nodded, turning to Sebastian as the taller picked the youth in his arms, carrying him as he sped through the forest with demonic speed, weaving in and out of the trees effortlessly. They whizzed past the property of the abandoned estate, entering the woods that outlined the outskirts of the city. The butler slowed as they approached, now within eyesight of the city, his crimson eyes searching about for any wanderers that may be there.

Finding nothing in particular or of great importance, the demon butler leaped into the air, flying high in the sky to reach a rooftop within the city, crouching low to evade any searching eyes that may look his way. He set Ciel down beside him, certain they were safe for the time being.

"I believe the crime took place a block from here. This is as close as I could come without having us being spotted. We'll have to walk there from here."

Ciel nodded in response, making his way down the rooftop before jumping down. He landed a little unsteadily, the whole demon strength and power still foreign to him. Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder, the younger shooting a pointed look.

"I can handle myself, Sebastian. Do not forget that."

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian bowed, a hand placed on his heart as he withdrew his other, his eyes closing as he tipped his head forward.

Ciel made no point to comment further, instead focusing on the task on hand. He walked forwards, brushing past a few passing civilians casually, Sebastian following suit though the butler stayed a little ways behind as to not arouse suspicion.

The murmurs of crowd up ahead attracted both servant and master's attention, Ciel the first to arrive at the scene.

"Everyone back!" an officer of Scotland Yard spoke as his other peers investigated the wretched mess of limbs and entrails.

The whole scene was gruesome; Splattered on the side of the building was both guts and blood. Along the cobbled street lay what remained of the body: an arm, half a leg—the other half quite a ways away, the torso, two hands and a foot, and an ear, and a crushed face.

"Everyone! Please, stand back!"

Ciel couldn't help but grimace at the whole sight before him. It was almost too much to see the dismembered limbs and the awful stench of raw organs and rotting flesh. It must have been sitting there for a while. Already maggots crawled into the rotting flesh, burying deep inside.

"Young Master," Ciel jumped slightly as Sebastian whispered in his ear having momentarily forgot the butler's presence.

"What is it?"

"The victim's name was Levi Gaile. He was thirty two years old and was the father of two daughters, and the husband to Evelyn Gaile. His occupation was a factory worker for James and Mason—just like the other four victims."

"Whoever did this must have the right tools to crush a skull and maim a body quickly. You'd have to have a sharp tool to cut through bone fast enough to leave the scene without anyone noticing you."

"Yes, but Master,"

"What?"

"I believe each victim was missing something. A part of their body. In each murder, the police were never able to recover one organ."

"Ah, yes. The heart."


	3. Chapter 2: Your Move

**Author's Note:**

**TADAA! Another chapter! xD The plot thickens! **

**Disclaimer: Yana Toboso owns the characters Ciel, Sebastian, Undertaker and many mentioned in here. I take credit for my OC: Felix Baxter II. **

**Once again, enjoy and leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys and reading what you think! :) Thanks! Toodles! **

* * *

The loud bong of the tower clock sent a murder of crows flocking to the black sky, their persistent caws growing fainter and fainter as they soared away, leaving the town in a state of dead silence.

Soft, glowing auburn rays broke through the black veil of night as the people hid safely within their humble abodes, too stricken with fear and dread to dare leave it. Curtains were drawn and doors were locked. It was a ritual each and every soul took against the midnight hour in hopes that their lives would not be the next one to be claimed. It seemed this particular killer had everyone worried. And they should be.

Factory workers were common. Especially so. They made up quite a hefty portion of the population, and when they all were being targeted, it made predicting who the unlucky individual would be quite a grueling task.

And so there they sheltered themselves, huddled in the far corners of their rooms, eyes focused on the bright flames on the candle wick, praying silently to the god's in heaven above that they might see the light of day.

Who's prayers would be answered, however, only time would tell.

A lone figure walked down the damp pavement, his black shoes clacking against the uneven stones. His trench coat flowed behind his large strides, catching the wind of a small breeze that rustled the dark fellow's bangs from his face. His pale lips were formed into an emotionless line, his crimson eyes half-hidden beneath the shadow of his top hat.

Sebastian was alone on these dark streets, and he wasn't the least bit surprised. He enjoyed the feeling of the moon's rays upon his shoulders, no one there to disturb him. The sharp, biting cold nipped at his exposed skin, swaddling him in a icy cool touch around his face. He rather liked the sensation, but he couldn't take the time to particularly savor it as he worked on the task at hand.

The butler had returned Ciel back to the mansion safely, the two discussing what information they had and piecing together the grotesque view that had been laid out for all to see. It was clear that the victims would all be tied to that one particular company. That was a given. It was also quite possible that the killer could be a competitor. James and Mason had grown much in the last year and had basically crushed all other textile industries within the city.

This, unfortunately, only narrowed it down slightly. There were many in this sort of business. Too many to carefully proceed with absolute certainty, and both master and servant knew this all too well. It seemed the only way they could possibly hope to advance, was to gather information from a certain someone whom Ciel was reluctant to visit: The Undertaker.

The gray haired man who asked for only one laugh would certainly know some valuable clues about these murders as he handled the disfigured bodies. Of course, Ciel could not come with the taller demon to the small, quaint building. The young master had been reluctant, having been much more accustomed to seeing with his own eyes than sending a messenger and trying to piece it all together with what information was given through the butler's lips. Regardless, Ciel had ordered Sebastian to do his bidding—discretely. There was to be no mention of the young Earl to the retired Shinigami, and a clever excuse for the demon's presence there was given and planned out. If the question were to be asked, Sebastian was to reply: It is simply that the killer's soul sounds so deliciously sinful.

It was reasoned that the Shinigami would understand the demon's need and lust for souls, especially when he knew the raven-haired man's last meal didn't quite survive the trip. It was natural the butler would be hungry. Starving.

Sebastian paused as he looked upon the skull that greeted him, hanging high above on the sign that so eloquently stated: The Undertaker. Though inviting was an adjective the place lacked, the demon welcomed it within his sights as he entered, still wearing the brown trench coat and shady attire.

It appeared as if the business had run down the gutter. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the room, veiling every nook and cranny with its thin thread. Dust and dirt covered the floor, crunching beneath the visitor's shoes as he took a step forwards. The stench of chemicals used for preserving biological material masked any other pungent odor that might also linger there. It was just as the butler last saw it, though, he wondered where the owner had wandered off to...

"Ahhh..." the almost creaky voice of the Undertaker reached the demon's attentive ears, two hands covered by ragged, black sleeves appeared through the small part of the lid of a sarcophagus and slowly pushing it open to reveal the man behind. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you anymore,"

"Neither did I," the raven-haired man responded with a small smirk, his auburn eyes observing as the strange man slipped through the opening and crept his way over to behind his desk.

"Hmm? No young Earl to join you this trip?" The Undertaker tilted his head, a large, toothy grin stretching across his features. The scar that ran across his left cheek and across his nose stretched to adapt to the large, beaming expression.

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm sure you've heard."

"Ah! Yes! The poor boy died. Almost four months ago! My memory is a little foggy," the older recalled suddenly, nodding his head in acknowledgment. He didn't seem keen on understanding the reason the butler was there now, but neither dwelled on the fact. "You know the price," spoke the silver-haired with an expectant chuckle.

"Yes. Quite," the demon sighed, brushing aside an ebony lock of his hair as he walked towards the awaiting other, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

After a few quiet moments as the butler explained his little joke, he stepped back to watch the Undertaker's expression change from confusion to pure amusement, a loud, hearty laugh following that shook the whole structure, a few glass bottles shattering to the floor from the tremble.

"My, my! What 'guests'!" The elder cackled, collapsing onto the ground in a laughing heap.

"Indeed," the butler spoke, brushing a small spider from his shoulder, the sudden shake having caused the small arachnid to be tossed from its web. It was a few more moments filled with the Undertaker's squeaky and unusual laughter before the individual climbed his way back to his feet, pulling himself up little by little with the help of his ancient desk.

"Now... I presume you wish to see the body of the latest attack?"

"Yes," the pale man spoke, rewarded as he was led to a certain coffin that lay on the floor next to many others; some filled, some not.

"Here he is. It took a great amount of time making him look human again. I had to use some extra parts I had saved up to fill in the missing pieces. Poor thing didn't even have the other leg," the black cloaked man sighed nonchalantly.

Sebastian knelt to inspect the body at a closer level, his eyes roaming over the jagged lines of each separated limb. The weapon must have been serrated at some level, but still sharp and efficient enough to cause such damage in a short amount of time. The butler suddenly thought of the red-haired Shinigami's Death Scythe. The contraption would certainly be able to perform the task, but he highly doubted the strict William Spears would ever allow the careless red head to ever own one again.

"Pretty gross, ne?" The man interrupted with a small thoughtful expression. "This one, however, looks neater than the first three."

"First three? Do you possibly still have the bodies?"

"Ah, yes. No one came to pick them up, even after all the hard work I did stitching them together," the Undertaker gave an exasperated sigh.

Sebastian followed the elder to the back room, pushing past a few hanging bags until he reached a storage room of sorts, many abandoned coffins thrown about. The demon wasn't entirely taken aback by the amount nor the notion of these long-forgotten bodies. Some people were just not remembered.

"Here. One. Two and three."

One by one, Sebastian pushed off the dusty coffin lids, inspecting the handiwork of the killer. Just as the Undertaker had said, the jagged lines were much more so on the first three bodies than the second. It was almost like the murderer had been perfecting his attack slowly over time.

The first body was even less identifiable than the next. The jagged lines were repeated over the same area giving the impression that it took much more effort to cut through the limbs and bone than on the fourth victim. It looked inexperienced and messy, and some of the limbs weren't even fully removed but merely hanging off by a split bone or two.

The chest cavities where the hearts were torn out were indeed different with each, also. The first was barely left, the whole upper chest torn apart in each and every direction. The second looked improved, though it was still not done by an expert. The third looked immensely different, only a single gash found on the bloodied flesh, large enough for a hand to reach in and tear the organ out. It looked similar to the fourth, the killer obviously pleased with this method.

But perhaps more useful to the butler was the size of the single gash. It appeared as if the flesh on the inside of the body were at an angle, as if a clear point had led and the blade thickening the deeper it was plunged inside. Like a saw.

Sebastian rose to his feet, tipping his top hat forwards to cover his eyes again, having pushed it back to allow him a clearer view of the evidence. He caught the other's gaze, a somewhat intrigued gleam across the Undertaker's face.

"Find anything?"

"Yes. Thank you," the demon responded, taking note of everything he had just discovered, prepared to return to his master and satisfy whatever mystifying factor that the young earl might be carrying. The butler turned to exit the storage room, making his way towards the front door when he heard the other's feet shuffle against the filthy floor.

"Curious..."

The demon angled his neck to look upon the other, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched that gaze.

"Curious you should be so interested in the victims..."

"If you are asking me why I continue this task since my master has departed, I have a very reasonable explanation."

"To devour souls, no doubt," the Undertaker chuckled slightly, watching the slight puzzled look cross the pale-man's features with every passing second. "No. My curiosity stems from another purpose."

Sebastian considered the man's words in silence, pondering the statement to reach a dead end. He was suspicious of that hazy look the elder flashed him, almost as if he were as utterly confused as him. It didn't settle with him. It didn't make sense.

"Would you clarify?" The demon finally spoke, his hand frozen in mid air as he awaited the other's response.

"You see, I don't get many visitors. Family members and friends seldom come to me to see their dearly departed, but I almost never get multiple visitors who aren't related to the victim, asking to see the very same body."

Sebastian's frown grew deeper. So another person was interested in this case, too? That was odd. It had to have been someone the Undertaker didn't recognize or the elder man would have made no mention of it. It seemed the man was asking for some light on the subject, even from the demon.

"Yes. That _is_ curious," Sebastian merely replied, flashing a ghost of a smile at the Undertaker before taking his leave, closing the door softly behind him as he faced the night once again. The new information had him extremely displeased and unnerved though he hadn't shown it to the other's face. Word of this surely would bring the young master's mood even further down, and Sebastian knew it was wise to avoid such a temperament if he could. But he saw no way around this. It seemed like something he couldn't possibly hope to hide from his master's ears. He needed to know.

The demon walked swiftly back up the small incline of the alley way from which he came, mulling over his own thoughts as he tried to pin point any one who may have been the stranger described by the Undertaker. It couldn't have been the Scotland Yard which would have been the obvious choice for the retired Shinigami would have said so. It couldn't have been detectives of any sort, nor any Shinigami for whatever reason they might come to the little, dark facade.

But at the same time, it couldn't have been just a commoner. It needed to be someone of importance. Of status. Of reputation.

The demon stopped in his tracks, feeling an eery presence about him. The streets lacked something of their usual character, and he could sense it. It was all very quiet, but too much so. It was blunt, but unmistakeably so. He felt great unease, as if something were about to unfold...

A shattering scream ripped through the silence and the butler hit off the ground in an instant, rushing towards the sound with unbelievable speed. He could hear the cries get more desperate, his feet pounding the earth in a black blur as his trench coat billowed out behind him, top hat left behind in his maddening speed.

Sebastian leaped off the ground with a push of his sturdy limbs, flying high into the air and atop a roof top, fixing his eyes upon a shadowy figure, the glimmer of the saw catching the demon's attention as it was raised above the mysterious figure's head and plunged deep within the body below it. Blood spurted forcefully from the lifeless body, eyes stricken wide with pure fear and terror before becoming dull and soulless.

The demon butler was nearly there. He could see the heart torn from the chest as the killer held it within his gloved hand, his masked face turned towards the advancing figure before fleeing to get away from the black blur.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, a little sound of annoyance leaving his tight lips before he threw his coat open, three silver knives in the palm of his hands the next second as he sent them hurling towards the retreating figure, a cry of pain somewhere in the distance before the source disappeared entirely.

He had gotten away, but not unscathed. Sebastian jumped down from the chimney stalk to land next to the victim's ripped and mangled body. Just as the others were, ligaments and guts were spilled about everywhere, and the heart was extracted from a small gaping hole in the chest. Fresh blood still seeped from every chunk of flesh, pooling around the man's body.

The raven-haired man looked upon the mess with a icy gaze, roaming over the pile of flesh to reach into the pant's pocket and retrieve a means of identification.

Daniel Penn. Age Twenty-nine. Judging by the photos in his wallet, he was the husband of a loving wife. No children. Undoubtedly a textile worker from the substances under neath his nails and upon his clothes. But within his possessions was something Sebastian did not expect.

A note from a respectful doctor within the city about a certain illness the deceased had carried. A heart disease. According to the hand-written document, the victim had 'unhealthy amounts of particles within his lungs that was affecting his breathing', and also a strange amount of some toxin that was infecting his blood, and in turn, slowly deteriorating his heart.

The demon let out a subtle smirk, folding the paper to match the creases already formed, placing it back into the wallet and returning it to the man by placing it in the pant's pocket, now drenched with scarlet.

This would be very useful. Perhaps he should pay the doctor a visit, but first he needed to return to the mansion and tell Ciel of his findings.

* * *

By the time the butler had reached the mansion, the hour was incredibly late. He highly doubted Ciel was asleep, the boy stubborn when it came to receiving something he wanted. He'd wait forever.

"Bocchan," Sebastian called as he knocked at the door lightly, his gloved hand muffling the sound of his knuckles against the hard wood.

"Come in, Sebastian."

The butler did as he was told, entering to find Ciel before him, sitting in a chair, arms crossed. The young Earl was dressed in his night wear, his two eyes visible as the eye-patch had been thrown upon the nightstand once again. Strangely enough, the knight chess piece was to be found upon the stand also, not the dresser where the taller had left it last.

"Well?" Ciel blinked, his tone impatient as he tapped his foot lightly upon the rug on the floor, the small pats of the toes of the shoe like the ticking of the clock.

"I've learned some very valuable clues from the Undertaker. He had obtained all four victims, allowing me to look over each with extreme care. I found that the first victim was not as skillfully chopped as the fourth, but that was to be expected. I later found that the fifth victim was being attacked as I was making my way back. Luckily, I heard it as it was happening and rushed to see the crime take place," Sebastian informed, watching as Ciel's expression grew increasingly more intrigued as the butler went on. "I managed to see the killer remove the heart, but was unable to capture him. Though... I did injure him as he fled the scene. I also found some interesting documents upon the deceased."

"Documents? What sort?"

"A doctor's analysis. The victim was experiencing heart problems caused by working in the poor conditions of the factory."

Ciel's face lit into a satisfied smirk, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the floor, his shadow stretching along the hardwood floor, the moon's light shining upon the back of his chair.

"I think we should pay this doctor a visit. Arrange an appointment tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord," the butler bowed, eyes closed as he tipped his head forwards, dark locks of hair shifting to cover his eyes. He rose again to see the indifferent expression of his master, the youth's large, blue eyes partially closed as he stared down at the floor, his small hands clasped together as he seemed to wait the butler's leave. Sebastian turned on his heel, reaching for the handle of the door and opening it, taking one step forwards when he stopped from the piercing gaze of the child.

"You let him get away?" Came the soft voice, a thud as two feet touched the ground, making their way leisurely towards the bed were he sat down, waiting for his servant to tuck him in.

Sebastian left the door open, turning to face his master again, an almost offended glimmer in the taller demon's eyes as he moved forwards, pulling the thick comforter up and allowing the youth to slip under neath. The butler wordlessly tucked the corner in tightly—but perhaps too tight.

"By all means, go ahead."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the bitter tone, not allowing any emotion to appear on his face as he stood, silent as a crow watching from its perch in a tree.

Ciel let his tension-filled gaze reside upon the pale-man's face, looking for anything. Any signs at all. This friction between them was not new. It was always there. It always had been. But ever since that day, when Ciel opened his eyes within the sea of water turning scarlet as he stared at his butler in disbelief. The look of disappointment in Sebastian's eyes that day. That look of _pure panic_. He couldn't help but chuckle sourly at the memory, watching how his butler was forced to stand there and await his orders through this hostile confrontation.

"I wonder..." The youth's hand reached out to grasp the ivory chess piece, turning it over and over in the palm of his pale hand as his eyes looked upon the perfected, rounded edges. The blank eyes of the equine as it gaped, open-mouthed, neighing its battle cry to the world.

Sebastian met the large, blue pools with his crimson red.

"Why did you let him get away?"

"I had gotten there too late."

"And you call yourself a _demon_... You pride yourself on being the best butler a Phantomhive earl could have..." Ciel hissed, his words like acid upon the servant as he stood, frozen. Still. Dutifully before his master. The knight was turned again, the mouth facing Sebastian as it seemed to gaze up at him. Helplessly.

"I wonder, Sebastian... Have you grown soft? Have you given up trying because you see no reward at the end of eternity?"

The knight tumbled from the King's hand, rolling off the bed side and onto the floor with a sharp, painful clang as the delicate, carved symbol was threatened to shatter from the fall.

"_I_ am your master, Sebastian. _I_ am _still_ your Master. Forever. You yourself swore to serve me for eternity. To be my faithful butler."

The words scraped at the knight's armor just as the hardwood floor and the ivory. Scratching it. Tainting it with it's rough, unforgiving surface. Sinking in its blade to tarnish it into submission.

"This is an order, Sebastian. Do **_not_** fail your duty."

**"Yes. My Lord."**


	4. Chapter 3: Set in Motion

**Author's Note: Another chapter! Short and sweet and straight to the point! :) Enjoy and leave a comment or two behind! I love reading them! :)**

**Disclaimer: Yana Toboso owns Black Butler character. I take credit for Felix Baxter II.  
**

* * *

The night had vanished as the sun's rays peeked over the brightening horizon. Glowing with warm, inviting colors of orange and golden hues, it melted away the frost and cool breath of the night, melting the small icy shields of the leaves and branches to clear drops of morning dew. The light basked all the land in its magnificence, telling all to rouse themselves and take advantage of the new day.

Of course, the day hadn't started with the gleeful joy it had hoped to be greeted with. When the streets would have normally been filled with the chatter of the morning commuters, there was a lonely sadness to the air. Instead, the streets had been filled with a grave gloom. Crowds poured towards the little courtyard, lining up as they murmured their grievances to the next and any listening ears. It was all despairingly quiet as many pairs of horrified eyes roamed over the crime scene, now sectioned off with multiple Scotland Yard officers, trying to push the eager and curious eyes away from the scarlet sight.

A few whistles had to be blown to catch the attention of the unnerved crowd, returning their imaginative minds to the present as they solemnly obeyed the orders of the law.

"Jesus Christ..." a gruff man with a scraggly but sculpted beard muttered under his breath. His small, aged eyes gazed upon the mess with a grimace, the lens of his glasses pushed higher upon his obtuse proboscis as he turned to his fellow policemen, each awaiting with expectant eyes.

"Look at this!" he grumbled in disgust, scratching his roughly shaped mutton chops before he had to turn away completely, his stomach fluttering with obvious displeasure. "What kind of sick bastard does something like this... Five times, too! Unbelievable."

"Sir, the civilians are getting a little out of hand. They seem scared-"

"And they should be!" the man snapped, beady eyes shrinking as he glared with such scrutinizing a look, it made the younger's lips close in an uneasy frown, eyes flitting to the shocked and listless features of the observing gatherers as they, too, were drawn towards the elder's rising volume.

"Sir... please, they can hear us. They need us to focus. We are here to protect them-"

"And do you really think we can?" the gravelly voice came forth, a firm hand gripping to the tense shoulders as the bearded man leaned in to speak without being heard by any prying ears. "Tell me, Mr. Crowe... do you really think we can protect them?"

The man stiffened beneath the shadow of his superior, the question left unanswered by his hesitant voice. His eyes wandered to the blood stained ground, his mind searching for the words he so desperately wished to form to prove the man wrong, but they seemed to elude him. There they were on the tip of his tongue, but even so, they remained impossible to pronounce. Like a child learning to speak, he managed to utter a few inaudible sounds before silencing himself in utter defeat.

Then it occurred to him. This had been the fifth victim, and they were no where close to solving it. They had been left with just as much information as the first body had given them. There was a killer targeting factory workers in the middle of the night. But why? Who?

Convinced he had made his point painstakingly clear, the gruff man gave an assuring pat before he left the man to suffer in his own realization. They were no where close to solving this case. The killer was still out there. And as far as any of them knew, the murderer was free to pick his prey and pounce without so much as a care in the world. All the police could do was pick up the evidence and hope that maybe someday, the cause of such pain and grief would make a mistake.

It was almost guilt that spread across the higher official as he looked upon the glum face of the officer. He gave a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes for just a moment. It was obvious sleep hadn't been the kindest to him from the bags under his eyes, slightly discolored from the rest of his skin by the faintest, paler tint.

"Oi! Crowe," he barked, causing the other to flinch as he was shaken from his pondering. "You've got a job to do! These people are nosy as anything. Get them back! We need some room to properly investigate this."

"Y-yes, sir!" the small flicker of a smile was enough to bring color back to the young man's face, enlightened by the sudden push to perform the duties he had sworn to carry out when he first took the badge and the uniform. He took his position in front of the horde of onlookers, blowing his whistle a few times to push them back in small intervals until at last, he had cleared a majority of the way, enabling the detectives to continue about their business.

The bearded man made a small snort to which he kept to himself, shaking his head faintly at the outcome of what a few little words of encouragement might do. He was careful not to let the words go to waste as he hid his actions from the pair of brown eyes that were directed amongst the groups of people that had finally calmed down somewhat, a few breaking from the pack to attend some other places of interest.

"Wayne," the man spoke, the owner of the name obediently approaching to receive his orders. "Search this man. We need to find out who he was so we might bring the unfortunate news to his family. They have the right to know," he spoke in a sullen tone, clearly expressing his wish to be apart from this haunting scene as soon as possible explicitly to the other.

"Yes, sir," The man called Wayne responded, gingerly stepping over the spread out pieces of limbs and body with great care, reaching into the man's pant's pocket with the tips of his gloved fingers, pulling out the black, bloodied, leather wallet by the corner of the worn material and only searching through it once he had reached ground that was not tainted by the horror.

Pushing aside various credits and the few, meager bills, he extracted a couple of family portraits and his identification. Upon pulling out the numerous possessions, the officer accidentally caused a loose slip of paper to tumble out, fluttering down to the stone-paved ground until a gloved hand reached down to grasp it. Upon pure curiosity, the man unfolded the creased letter, widening his eyes as he read the hand-written statement.

"Sir! Sir! I've found something!" Wayne exclaimed hurriedly, rushing over to his superior's side as he showed him them the letter, the latter's features matching the renewed determination that shone in the others'.

"Yes. You did."

* * *

A small bell sang its announcement of a visitor in the small seating room of the medical facility, the golden-haired receptionist lifting her wondrous gaze to the tall, pale stranger before her, a subtle smile to his thin, smooth lips. She blushed at the individual's alluring gaze, his smile widening a brief moment as he tilted his head to the side, allowing his black locks to slide away, revealing his equally as attractive complexion.

Her hands fidgeted as she fought the heat that flushed to her cheeks, hopeless against the scarlet gaze that fixed upon her as she looked away, bashful. She almost jumped, gasping as the man's hand reached up to the desk, white-gloved hands roaming over the corner of the polished wood.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, but I have made an appointment with the doctor for this evening—it's a bit early, but I'm simply afraid my nephew's condition has worsened. I cannot bare to wait a second longer," the man looked down in slight embarrassment at his almost impatient request, his auburn eyes temporarily lowering to look upon his black shoes until his hand was met with the soft delicate flesh of the woman as she smiled brightly at him, cheeks still reddened.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll send you to the doctor straight away. He is not busy at the moment and I'm sure he wouldn't mind," the fair-haired woman assured the stranger with a small nod of her head, rising from her chair to open the doctor's office, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder at the awaiting man, her eyes lingering before she reminded herself she had something to do.

The man watched her with smiling eyes as she disappeared behind the oak wood, the door shutting with a quiet thud.

"Nephew?" Ciel scowled from beneath the thick coat and layers upon layers of clothes he bore, covering him head to toe, a makeshift mask over his mouth to hide most of his face and to make his part of being sickly more believable.

"Surely it's better than son," Sebastian replied with a sly smirk as Ciel's expression hardened, eyes cold as he let out a sound of disapproval.

"Let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Certainly, My Lord," the butler quickly added just as the door opened, the same woman slipping through with a welcoming smile, her bright eyes expressing her happiness as she informed them with her good news.

"The doctor is ready to see you now," she spoke to Ciel, rubbing his covered head slightly with her hand and giggling at the small child's still expression. Though he might have seemed a natural at playing the part of being ill extremely well, Sebastian knew it was all because of his obscured features. The butler had cleverly disguised the boy to look displeased—something the earl was not completely foreign to. The demon smirked inwardly knowing that beneath that mask laid the plainest of sneers, but from the outside, the boy just looked miserable.

"He's adorable," the receptionist smiled to the butler in disguise as she cooed words of encouragement to the youth, pinching color into the young boy's cheeks with the tips of her dainty fingers, Ciel flinching with every touch.

Oh, how very much Sebastian enjoyed this. He let a chuckle slip by as he watched the woman baby the aggravated child further, feeling the boy's annoyance grow like a dark cloud over his head, threatening to spill into a fearsome storm.

"Thank you," the thin man replied, his amusement in this current predicament forced to a close as he focused on the task ahead. "And may I thank you a dozen times over for your assistance. Now, if you'd excuse both my nephew and I, we have an appointment to attend," the handsome man spoke kindly, the woman dipping her head as she rose to her feet, her eyes following the pair as they traveled down the hallway, turning into the room she had just a few moments before.

Upon closing the door, the two directed their attention to the man who looked up from his desk, his suit hanging off his small shoulders to only exaggerate his lanky form. His face was even but intellectual as he peered at the two clients through the lenses of his brown, round glasses. He rose from his cushioned chair, hand removing his spectacles and tucking them into the suit's front right, breast pocket.

"Mr. Halley, I presume?" The doctor smiled with a friendly demeanor about him, his soft russet eyes giving a calming effect to whom might see them. However, the two demons weren't easily comforted by appearances. Much less strangers they hadn't known for any significant amount of time.

"That is correct," Sebastian, or rather Mr. Halley, confirmed with an equally as inviting expression, hand placed upon the boy's shoulder despite knowing he'd probably get an earful for it.

"Ah! And this is the little nephew Connor," the doctor knelt down to better greet the small boy, his eyes examining the large, cerulean iris that stared back. The physician was drawn to the lack of the other eye, his hand rising to brush the bangs aside but not able to carry out the desire before a gloved hand grabbed his wrist.

Slightly taken aback, the doctor glanced up at the thin man in confusion, his body freezing from the surprisingly firm grip of the butler who merely gazed right back, towering above him at his current state.

"I'm afraid the sickness might be contracted through touch. The last thing I'd want to happen is for the _doctor_ to get sick, as well."

The smooth words sunk into the individual's head before he even moved though the hand had released his wrist. He slowly rose to his feet, hand rubbing the flesh that had been caught under the grip absentmindedly.

"Oh, of course," the medic's eyes were clouded slightly, his mind somewhere else for the moment before he blinked a few times, waking from his daze. "I apologize."

"Oh, no need, doctor," Sebastian grinned, his words and actions carefully planned in execution to manipulate the information he needed from this man. Methodically exercising what tactics were best, the butler moved onto the next step. The goal was to obtain what he wanted. Ciel was not to be revealed nor thoroughly examined by the doctor during their visit. Both had made that clear. The only reason Ciel was brought along, though being a huge risk they had taken, was because if Sebastian were to play sick, there would be no avoiding the check-up. And the demon was rather against the whole idea of being prodded, probed, and touched for no purpose.

The doctor moved over to his desk where he sat back in his chair, dipping his pen in the ink before motioning for the guests to take a seat. Ciel took no time in hesitating, moving swiftly over to a seat and plopping down whilst 'Mr. Halley' preferred to remain standing for this session.

"Would you name any symptoms?"

"Well, it began with a simply cough, so we assumed it was a cold, and after administering the corresponding remedy, he seemed to get much better. It wasn't until a week later that he fell completely ill-" his well practiced and memorized monologue was interrupted with the weak coughs provided by the youth, a pained look upon the boy's features as he played his part well. "-and began bursting into violent fits of coughing. He had grown a burning fever, and he had hardly any energy to leave his bed. We didn't know what to do, so I brought him here. As you can see, he doesn't have the energy to talk nor stand, and I had to wrap him in so many scarves and such to stop the shivers."

"Coughing you say?" The doctor spoke as he wrote down notes and observations upon the parchment laid in front of him, the tip of the quill scraping along the glass of the ink as he clasped his hands together, tilting his head to give them his undivided attention.

"Yes—very much so. The boy has no history of asthma nor lung defects, but ever since he began to play down by the river, he started to come home with trouble breathing, nor the stamina he usually would have."

"The river? By the factory?"

"Yes—yes! That's the one," Sebastian replied, lips forming a concerned frown as he leaned forwards slightly, his eyes widening in such unbelievably, well performed dread. "Is there something important about that, doctor?"

"Possibly. You see, I have been getting many patients lately, all of whom have spent long hours near or at the factory. It's too much of a coincidence for me to believe that there isn't something in the air that is causing so many to have problems with their respiratory systems. I wouldn't have brought this up if I didn't think it relevant. Mister, your nephew appears to be suffering from a virus _and_ a form of lung contaminant."

"Both a virus and a contaminant?" The demon replied with a raise of one eyebrow, his frown never faltering.

"Yes. The virus could have been caught through contact, but I'm almost positive the source of your boy's shortness of breath and coughing is from the factory."

"Should the boy avoid the factory, will his coughing cease?"

"In theory, yes. Eventually all the particles that have infected his system will be cleansed and removed," the doctor nodded, looking quite troubled all of a sudden as he looked upon the demon butler, hands folding over and over. "Mister Halley, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, doctor. I owe you as it is."

"You don't happen to be a worker at the factory, are you?"

The question undoubtedly struck a chord within the demon as he intently listened, honing in on the doctor's voice alone.

"No, I'm afraid not...why?"

The doctor's worry seemed to ebb away at the answer, the medic leaning back in his chair as he straightened his posture. Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian knew he had answered incorrectly. Time to improvise.

"But my brother, Connor's father, works there almost every night. Is there something I should know?"

And just like that, the physician's eyes were upon him, fixated on the crimson irises that glowed back.

"Tell him to watch his health—he wouldn't want to come here."

"And why is that? I appreciate your concern and the gesture, but you're the only doctor here for miles! I'm not certain the man can stay healthy and strong forever..."

"I-I'm just suggesting you may want to find another business to trust," the man responded cryptically, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he opened them again, a fearful look in his gaze. "It's just that, any factory worker that has come to me for complaints of their health, has... has..."

"Has what, doctor?"

"Fallen victim to the murderous killer!"

Ciel's eyes rose to the doctor's panicked face, his mouth a smirk beneath the white mask. He looked to his left, the demon joining his smirk with mutual satisfaction though still hidden beneath the brilliantly executed act.

"You mean to tell me each of the five victims... came to you...then... died?"

"That is exactly what I'm telling you! Believe me when I say this, Mr. Halley... I'm not a superstitious man, but this is all too coincidental! I beg of you! Do not come to me for help! I will not be the cause of another death! All I've wanted to ever do was help nurture the sick back to health, not send them to their deaths by my mere presence as they come looking for aid!"

"Calm down, doctor," Sebastian's frown was gone. No emotion replaced it as the demon tapped Ciel's shoulder, the small boy rising from his chair and heading towards the door, the butler lingering for a moment as he gazed down at the frightened man. "And thank you for your wonderful assistance."

"W-wait! What about the boy? I haven't even given you my analysis! W-Wait!"

The pair exited the room, the receptionist puzzled by the sound of the doctor's panicking and raised voice.

"Is something the matter?" She asked the two, receiving a genuine smile flashed before her, all her worries dispelled for a moment as the tall man replied: Not at all.


	5. Chapter 4: Capture

**Author's Note: Hurrah! Another chapter out! This one is a bit longer, but a bit more action packed! :D Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler characters, they are owned only by Yana Toboso. :)**

**Leave a comment or two! :D I really appreciate them!**

**~HCA**

* * *

Quickly, the day darkened into dusk. The sun had completed its pass over head, the world turning to allow the heavenly light to dwell upon others and rouse them from the night that was approaching London with haste. The young children were called to their homes by the motherly tones of their guardians, frolicking back towards the doors and disappearing behind them. Safe for the night. The men returned late, the moon now ready to bathe all in its glowing magnificence as they marched back to their families, wiping the sweat from their brow.

The factory workers, their face ashen with dust and dirt, trudged along, talking in such tired voices they didn't make any real attempts to converse. But that was alright. None of them seemed keen on participating in such an activity, their sights laying upon the comforting, soft beds that would await them at home along with hot food and a nice, cold, glass of water.

Coughs seemed the common sort amongst this exhausted group of peoples, varying from mild to extremely abhorrent. They did not look of the healthy mind and soul one would hope to come upon, but it didn't appear as if any of them were bothered by it. This was everyday life for them after all. Every night they'd listen to the heavy and struggled breathing of their companions, their hearts pounding in their chest to keep them walking. To help them reach such a place of relaxation they all yearned for.

A group of four men seemed to stay back at the factory for a moment, allowing the other many to form in line and commute, slowly but surely, away from the facility. Each of the four looked tiresome as any, their eyes drooping and dull as their hands fumbled in their pockets to retrieve handkerchiefs and use them to cleanse their skin of the harsh dust and ground material that collected there from the workshop.

One man, appearing to be the youngest of the four, perhaps in his early twenties was dressed in dust-coated clothes, his hands fit with ragged gloves that allowed the fingers to be free from the worn cloth but covered the palms. He seemed the more enthusiastic of the others, his youthful smile managing to look much less wearied than he felt.

"I'm glad the shift is over," an older man grumbled, his shaggy mustache covering his top lip and giving him a very rugged appearance. He looked like a tough individual, the owner of burly shoulders and a muscular build that didn't appear gained through exercise but natural. His bear-sized hands scratched at his stubbled chin, the wrinkles around his eyes deceiving his age.

"Aye..." Another replied. Almost in complete contrast, the man was lanky and lean only a little visible muscle on him. His face wore no facial hair, but his sharp features were pronounced enough. His heavy set forehead made his eyes bask in its shadow, his large nose pointed at the tip to match his equally as formed chin and square jaw. His accent only added to the fact he was most likely of Irish or Scottish decent, his pale and smudged skin and thick, curly red hair only supporting the probability. "Right, Mac?"

"Hmm..." the man called Mac replied with a blink of his beady eyes, his hollow face appearing ghostly in the limited light of the hour. He nodded his head vaguely, his crooked jaw set in place as he folded his arms, leaning against the brick wall of the building, giving a small sigh as he let his eyes close for just a moment.

"I can't wait until I can finally leave this damned place. You know I was in perfect condition before I got here," The gruff man spoke again, scoffing in annoyance. "Could've run miles without stopping. But now I can't even get home without taking a break!" he muttered mostly to himself, his pride too high to allow his words to be heard at the normal volume, though the other men understood his frustration.

"You're not the only one, lad..." The Gaelic man gave a look of longing as he reminisced about the past. In all truth, he was grateful for the job. It was what he was living off of now, but the amount of stress it placed on his body made him worry. He doubted he would last forever doing this. "Hey, speaking of which, Mac, didn't you go to the doctor yesterday?"

Mac nodded stiffly again, his eyes still closed as he felt sleep calling to him regardless of where he as currently.

"Well, what'd he say!?" The burly man scowled at the other's impatience to slumber, surprised the man could even allow himself to doze off whilst standing against a wall.

"Calm down," the youngest spoke softly, the smile never failing as he turned to Mac, propping himself against the wall also to listen to what the elder had to say.

"Well... I went to him, but he wasn't of much help. I kept getting the feeling I wasn't welcomed there, but... he finally managed to tell me something about this here condition I got."

"What condition? Is it serious? Are you going to die?" The youth frowned, mouth ajar in shock.

"Let him finish!" Scowled the stalwart figure. "Go on, Mac."

"I got a condition with my ole lungs. He says I ain't breathing right 'cause of something in the air at this factory. Says it's why I cough so bloody much. He also said I got something in my blood. Something that's affecting my heart. 'Parently, I got some heart disease from this place, too."

There was unnerving silence amongst the quartet as the words sunk in, the words to say lost as each wondered about their own health. None disagreed with what the doctor had told Mac, and each believed whole-heartedly that they had the same problem with the toxins in the air. But the heart disease had been something new. None of them had ever imagined that the factory would cause such damaging issues to one's self.

"Are you gonna be alright, Mac?" the Irish man spoke first, running a hand through his tangled mess of red as he tried to express his worry in the right form, not sure how to proceed about the sensitive topic.

"Yeah, yeah. I figured I may as well lengthen my time I got here on Earth by showing Mr. Leerag my note from the doctor. With this, I should be able to be discharged from the factory. And maybe he'll realize what's going on and check things out himself."

"When you gonna show him? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Figured so. Don't want to let my condition worsen," the old man chuckled in a rasping sound, coughing lightly as his lungs began to swell, his face reddening from the sudden constriction. He cleared his throat, feeling not entirely so well.

"Yeah, Mac. You better show him quick. You don't look so good..."

"I'm fine!" The man hollered back, scowling as he glared with squinting eyes. "I can take good care of myself! Ya'll just go on back to your homes. I got things to do!"

"Suit yourself, Mac," the red-haired man sighed with a shrug of his lean shoulders. "See you tomorrow, then, eh?"

"Yeah. G'night, Mac," both the youngster and the burly man spoke in farewell as they too gathered their belongings and began the trek home, leaving the older man to himself, still leaning against the wall.

Mac watched them shrink into the distance, his vision blurring as he struggled to see very far. The man was aged, and his sight had grown considerably bad with it. He sighed, mumbling some words of profanity about the other's behaviors before he turned to the crumpled paper in his hand. He sincerely hoped it would be enough to let him leave the workshop. He had worked there for about five years now, and it was getting to be too much to bare. The work alone without the problems of his health was getting a little difficult. His fingers weren't as skilled as they once were, and his bones and strength had slowly been deteriorating. He was around the age of retirement anyways and thought little about continuing his future there. The man had always had a fantasy of owning his own business. Perhaps he'd pursue it or maybe just enjoy his pension pay, even if it really was only a meager amount.

Maybe he'd surprise his grand daughter with a visit? The girl was nearly a woman now, and she hadn't received a visit from him in a long while. He hoped the little girl still remembered his face for he truly enjoyed her company. He was not one for sentiment, but the child had a way of sidestepping that.

Turning so he faced the brick wall, the crooked jaw turned into an equally as uneven grin, the man's scratchy voice breaking the silence.

"Well, farewell you pain in the ass," he cackled merrily, slapping a hand onto the sturdy facade before pushing off with his elbow and beginning to walk forwards, towards his home where he would be greeted with food and a warm bed to sleep in.

His steps clopped along the streets, his pace slow to avoid anything that might be strenuous. He hummed between his closed lips as he thought about random things that popped into his mind, not particularly interested in his surroundings after seeing them almost everyday on his way to and from work. He grinned, reminding himself of the fact he wouldn't have to go to work from then on. Tomorrow would be his last day. This brought a spring in his step, his humming becoming whistling in an eccentric form.

Like a child, his giddy skips and whistling were almost carefree, his old age forgotten at the moment as his youthful happiness returned. But also like a child, he was oblivious. Careless.

The man's whistling was almost haunting through the empty streets, now foggy with haze that hung close to the ground, parting under the man's feet as he meandered along. He certainly made no attempts to make himself inconspicuous, taking joy in his childish antics for once in a long time.

He turned a corner, sharing the tune of a dance through his lips, his hands in his pockets. He suddenly paused, his whistling cutting to a short, abrupt halt as he hunched over, hands springing from his pockets to clasp over his mouth as he hacked uncontrollably, his lungs expelling the irritants violently. So violently, it racked the man's entire frame as he stood still, unable to move through his fit. He gasped for air at the end of it, his throat dry and raw. He cleared it with a grimace, letting out a long, ragged exhale. A look of scorn came across his face. It only made the thought of his leaving the factory even more glorious as he began to continue on his way, no longer whistling nor traveling in a lively aura.

The coughs seemed to put him on edge. It seemed they would follow him everywhere—even away from the horrible atmosphere of the workshops. It always seemed to loom behind him, ever trailing in his footsteps.

He stopped frozen, head glancing over his shoulder as he searched the dark street for anyone. He could have sworn he could feel someone's presence, and the fact that that person had not made his or herself known only bothered him more. Shrugging it off and blaming the late hour as the cause, he began to proceed, slowly. The eerie sensation had removed itself for now, and he was no longer suspicious, though a small part of human instinct still tugged at his mind, telling him to hurry up.

He complied, beginning to walk a little faster. It was all he could manage at the moment unless he wanted to risk another attack from his respiratory system. Almost immediately, he felt that same feeling of being watched and hunted and it bade him to go faster. Breaking into a sprint and ignoring the shortness of his breath, the man began to test his limits as he struggled to survive the impending shadow behind him.

Slowly it crept up his lungs and throat. The urge to cough grew immensely, his insides burning as they screamed for relief. He pushed the sensation as far away as he could, but you cannot stop natural instinct.

Against his will, he began to break out into sputtering coughs, his lungs seizing in attempts to dispel the hazardous particles it held, his sprint failing as he fell to the ground, at the total mercy to the cloaked one that stood before him, having caught up the second his pace had faltered. The large shroud the stranger wore hid any noticeable features the poor, coughing man could even hope to find as he lay there, helplessly writhing as his lungs pushed mercilessly.

The pursuer wore a mask over his face, his gloved hand revealing a large saw from underneath his cloak, the blade dragging on the ground with a squeal as the metal scraped across the pavement, the ill man unable to protest or shout as his fit persisted with no end in sight. He raised his hands out in front of him as a plead for his life.

But the plea was ignored.

Down did the blade sink into the man's throat, the serrated blade making quick work of the flesh and bone, the decapitated body gushing blood as the separated head rolled down the incline, the blank eyes still wide in shock. The saw ripped from the shoulder to the chest, the gash large and gaping. The man knelt, one black, gloved hand pushing aside a slab of flesh and warm, pouring blood.

The fingers skillfully maneuvered through the ribs, cracking one apart with a forceful push, the hand wrapping around an artery and tugging it loose, doing the same to the others around the still beating heart. Blood spurted out with each frantic beat of the heart before it slowed to a dead, still state. The man pulled, the extracted organ seeping blood in the gloved palm.

"I wonder what you plan to do next..."

The figure dropped the heart, the organ rolling down the slope, trailing after the head with sloshing noises as the tender muscles stuck to the jagged stones. At once the masked face searched behind him for the source of that smooth, deep voice. Chilling to the bone. There was nothing in sight. Absolutely nothing. Nothing but his own shadow that remained on the now red pavement, the blood running in the little canyons between the stones.

Out of nowhere, a pair of forks sank into the stranger's flesh of his shoulder, the man screaming in agony as the same injury from before was savagely ripped open again, a hand flying out to clutch the joint and pull out the silverware. His eyes searched the utensils, his own inverted reflection staring back at him with such terror it brought a sharp inhale as he dropped the silver, a drop of his blood having dripped down the side and landed on his thumb with an icy cold prick.

"Who the hell are you!?" The man bellowed angrily. Fearfully. He kicked away the three-pronged tools, the clatter of the silver against the rough, rugged road clashing about in the still, frozen air.

"Your worst nightmare..." A grin of fangs flashed behind the man as the demon stepped out from the shadows, his black tail coat neat and tucked. With crimson eyes the tall, thin demon observed the man's complexion blanch completely.

"W-what are you!? Show yourself!"

"I'm simply one _hell_ of a butler."

The man couldn't react before his throat was crushed severely between the solid fingers of the black-haired man, those scarlet eyes ablaze with sadistic satisfaction at the squirming body in his crushing hold. He was lowered slightly before thrown in the air with such tremendous power, he sailed above the roof tops, his silent screams reaching no one's ears. Leaping to match his height, Sebastian smiled wickedly as everything seemed to fall in slow motion. They floated, suspended in the air for what felt like eternity. The man's dread escalated all the while, his eyes fixated on that devilish grin and before he knew it, the demon hurled him back towards the ground, a sickening crack the signal of excruciating pain. The demon knelt beside the beaten individual, pulling the mask back as he tilted his lean face, his eyes glowing in such a beast-like manner, it made the others' blood run cold.

"I hope you have a restful sleep," the demon smiled so genuinely it mad the man's stomach churn, his vision blacking as a sharp pain struck his head.

* * *

The amount of time that had flown past before the man opened his eyes again was unknown to him, his body aching and sore in all places. He tried to move, but jolts of pain held him back. It felt as if his whole soul were in a state of agony for he felt no relief. He could feel the warm trickling of his blood leave the side of his mouth, dripping from the corners and from the back of his head, coating and caking his hair in its red essence.

For the longest time he could not see anything. His vision was so obscured with confusion, his blistering headache, and blinding pain, it made seeing anything impossible. He groaned from lifting his head a meager inch or so, trying to make out anything at all in this strange world he was being kept hostage in at the moment. A warm glow of a few candles caught his attention, the light reflecting off the edges of a polished chair, the outline only visible from the partially revealed window behind it. Judging by the amount of light emitted from behind the drawn curtains, it was still night time, though very late and almost into early morning.

He rolled on his back, crying out in immense discomfort as his spine tensed, a sharp spasm sent through his entire frame. He felt broken. The thought of standing up was too painful to dwell on, and the desire to turn his body towards the light was out of the question, too. Seeing no way around this, the man parted his cracked, blood-caked lips, sputtering out nonsense at first as his heavy breathing mixed with whimpers.

"W-where am I?! Help!" his desperate voice was shaky, on the verge of tears and sobs.

"Help me! Someone!" only his echo was there to answer.

"Anyone! Help me!"

"Anyone..."

His eyes welled with salty tears, the blubbering fool so pathetic in appearance it couldn't help but earn a snort from the darkness, the tears immediately ceasing at the sudden announcement of another soul.

"Anyone, you said?" the cool voice repeated his words, the tone not deep enough to be the man from before—not deep enough to be a man at all. No. This voice belonged to a boy.

"Please..." the man begged, silencing his cries by taking rapid deep breaths, his body completely still as it pained him too much to move at all. His vision had finally returned, his eyes peering out into the shadows as he looked for whomever the voice belonged to.

"Anyone. Are you certain?"

"Yes! I beg of you! Help me! Get me a doctor! Anything for this pain!" the man shrieked in despair, writhing in complete suffering, staining his clothes with splotches of red.

"Don't worry. I'll help you. The pain won't last long, you can take my word for it... Mr. James Leerag..."

The man froze, his lips quivering as he dared make another sound.

"Y-you... know my n-name... how..."

"Simple. You've been making yourself quite known lately, haven't you... of course, your name had been replaced with another description: The killer."

The words spoken had been enough to take any out of the other. He did not speak. He dared not open his mouth as he heard the owner of the voice come forwards, the shoes clacking against the bare stone ground, echoing through out the large, empty space. They came like the beats of his heart. Pounding in his ears they drew nearer, louder. Ba dump. Ba dump. Ba dump.

Silence.

The boy did not kneel. He did not stoop to gaze eye to eye with the man. He did not lower himself to the pitiful level of the blubbering fool. No. he looked down upon him with such a hate-filled and disgusted gaze, it burned through him like the fires of Hell. That was not a cerulean eye that loomed above him. It was blood red.

The small lips formed a sneer of the highest offense, his eye lid lowering to darken his features. Black bangs swept over his face, covering the eye-patch that lay over the hidden eye that was undoubtedly glaring just as much as the other. He only needed one to express his true bitterness.

"Such scum as you... they deserve no mercy."

"Please! Please give me mercy! I-I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Haven't done anything wrong?" The boy laughed so harshly, his eye still gazing at him like a predator to its prey. "Sebastian, explain why he shall receive no such answer to his pleas."

"Certainly, my Lord."

That same voice from before made the man gasp in shock, his horror stretched upon his face in the form of utter misery.

"Mr. James Leerag is one of the two business owners of the company James and Mason. Becoming number one in textile industries five years ago, the company expanded greatly, offering jobs to many to work in the workshops and create the textiles that were so popular. The victims started appearing a month ago, around the same time Mason Dilney left to France to try and reach an agreement with businessmen there to allow his company to go international. Mr. Leerag had been placed in charge until Mr. Dilney's return, however-"

"Please! I'm innocent!" The interruption was given a pointed look by the butler, his red eyes shooting a clear warning. It silenced the pleading words in an instant.

"However, the workers had begun to fall behind. The demand was too great, and the supply was too short. Thinking like any businessman, he resorted to what would fix the problem and be the least costly to him. He increased production by mixing in a certain chemical in the yarn and wool. The chemical thickened the threads, allowing less wool to be used in order to make the same amount. Even though the breakthrough proved to place the business back on top, Mr. Leerag failed to answer to the advice of researchers who were analyzing said chemical. Apparently, it's extremely harmful when exposed to heat, the fumes causing dangerous toxins to linger in the air that can most certainly lead to lung disease and can infect the blood if contacted through broken skin.

"At the time, I had no real suspects for there were too many to consider. Competitors. Perhaps someone who had a grudge against the company. When the victims began to pile up, I noticed a few clues from inspecting their bodies. One, the weapon used to kill them had to be a saw-like blade. Second, the hearts were always removed. Thirdly, a note was found on the fifth victim. A note from a certain doctor whom when we visited, informed me that every single one of those victims had come to him and died shortly after visiting. I also had the liberty of memorizing a list of patients who had recently come to the office. On that list, I found Mr. Macken Lewis. A fifty-three year old male who worked in the factory for five years...complaining about breathing and pains in the heart. When the doctor told me of this coincidence, I couldn't help but wonder how the attacker knew of each patient's visit to the doctor so quickly.

"But after I followed behind Mr. Lewis, witnessing as you murdered him and took his heart and uncovering that mask that hid your identity so well, it all made sense. You see, Mr. Leerag is a regular patient of that doctor. At a young age, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. Ironically enough, the disease also affects the lungs. However, having reason to visit the doctor on frequent occasion, Mr. Leerag was able to find out if any of his workers had come there for help.

"The motive of his murders was to keep the condition of his workers at bay and from the ears of the public, but perhaps more importantly, Mr. Mason Dilney. Mr. Dilney is an elderly man, and as I've come to hear it, thinking of an heir to run the company solo when he eventually retires or happens to depart this world sooner than he thought. The man had no family relatives, so the obvious choice of the heir was Mr. Leerag. However, if word got out that Mr. Leerag had indeed endangered the lives of hundreds of workers and was the cause of their failing health, that position as owner would be given to someone else and he would spend time in prison.

"Unable to bare the thought, Mr. Leerag caught word of the first victim's will to leave the factory because of health problems and killed him after finding his name amongst the doctor's list of patients. And I believe that brings us to here and now."

"P-please! He's lying! You cannot believe him!"

"My butler _doesn't_ lie."

The demon at his side smiled brightly towards the trembling captive, his white gloved hands held in front of the side of his mouth as he leaned forwards to whisper in the young boy's ear, the words too soft-spoken for any to hear.

"W-what are you doing!? What are you going to do with me!?"

The butler stepped back as his master dipped his head, that pale face showing nothing of any sort of emotion to the panicking soul. Sebastian stood dutifully, hands at his sides as he watched his Bocchan approach the man. The black ribbon tied in a bow around Ciel's neck swung as the boy motioned with a sharp tilt of his head, the servant reacting to the signal as he came before the man, hoisting the bruised and battered body to his knees, the man's expression of pure anguish.

Slowly, the boy crept forwards, pale hands resting atop the silver adornment of the cane he leaned on. One of the small hands fled the cane to brush aside his bangs, fingers sliding beneath the black silk of the eye-patch and removing the item with a small tug, the bow coming undone as it dropped to the floor.

The revealed eye glowed with a strange force, a dark aura surrounding the three as both eyes dawned upon the kneeling man, his quite, whimpering voice pleading for forgiveness of his sins. To allow his life to be spared.

"As I promised... your pain will end soon. Just a little more."

"W-w-what are you d-doing?" The man whispered in fear as the boy leaned forwards, small lips curving into a subtle smirk as that right eye suddenly began to glow, a purple, gleaming pentagram appearing luminously before him.

"I'm afraid this might be painful, but it won't last long. I assure you that."

Closer the boy came, his lips barely inches from the man's face, unable to move as he was frozen in terror. Sebastian watched with strange intrigue as his master grew ever closer to quenching his demonic desires.

"NO—"

The room suddenly began to spin, the candles blowing out as an ear splitting shriek rang through out the entire structure, burrowing deep into any minds that heard it, cutting through any peaceful consciences that might have existed. The sickening sound of flesh being ripped apart splattered the darkness, the scream gushing to an end before complete silence fell upon them.

The coarse scratch of a match being struck, the small whoosh of the flame igniting like a quiet whisper that the tall man who held it between his two fingers listened to with his attentive ears. His amber eyes were ablaze with the flame as he lit the wick of the candles that had been extinguished just moments before. Just before the fire had crawled its way down the thin wood, the butler blew through his lips, a string of smoke rising into the air before he placed the used match upon the silver ash tray beside the candles.

He turned his body to face the young earl who stood with his back turned, blood dripping from his fingers.

"Young Master,"

Ciel faced the demon, his bloodied face hued with orange as the candles flickered in harmony.

"I advise we'd better get you washed up. It is rather late and you must be rested for tomorrow—"

"Tell me, Sebastian," Ciel spoke, his voice light as if his mind were somewhere else at that moment.

"Yes?"

"Did you not want to devour his soul? Did you feel temptation as I consumed his sins?"

"Young Master," Sebastian picked up a candle, holding the golden base as he stepped towards the young boy, taking a handkerchief and wiping away the blood that dripped from his chin. "I only want one soul," his words made the other stare up at him, eyes still their deep crimson.

"And I can never have it."


	6. Chapter 5: Regrets and Resent

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay guys, but I got another chapter up! This one is kind of short and more of a filler to explain somethings going on, but I hope you enjoy it! :) **

**Disclaimer: Yana Toboso owns Black Butler and the characters- I take no credit except for my OC Felix Baxter II. **

**Drop a comment while you're at it :)**

**~HCA**

* * *

"Young Master..."

The sunlight streamed through the slightly ajar window, a gust of wind billowing the blue curtains as they reached towards the foot of the bed. The wind was warm and inviting in the airy room, though the individual who dwelled within it was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, effectively shielding him from it head to toe. Not sure as to why the master insisted upon having an open window at night though he wouldn't even appreciate it, Sebastian moved swiftly, placing the silver platter back down upon the cart and closing the window with a small creak, the hinges softly whispering closed.

When the demon looked back upon his Master, he was no longer slumbering. It appeared either the loss of the fresh air or the quiet protests of the windows to shut had awoken him from his peaceful state. He looked rather bedraggled, but Sebastian supposed he did every time he woke up. Always, Ciel managed to ruffle up his hair to the point it stuck up at every end. His clothes laid wrinkled and shifted awkwardly. His skin looked lifeless as well as his overall demeanor, and those eyes glared so relentlessly as if he would kill to go back to sleep if he had the chance.

"Young Master, your tea."

Ciel followed his butler's gaze to the cart of refreshments, ready to be served to him. The contents hid under silver lids, but the earl could tell it was another of Sebastian's delectable treats judging by the savory aroma that rose from them. It brought back old memories to the young boy's mind. Of back then when he was human. When he could actually _enjoy_ the taste of the food. When he could relish the herbal taste of the tea upon his tongue and let it sit there for a moment to let it take full effect. How he yearned for that taste.

But things had changed. He found the tea bland and rather empty while the food tasted too strong and sharp. Too sweet. It tasted like bitter and excruciatingly sweet tar in his mouth whenever he attempted to eat it. He never admitted to Sebastian that he could hardly stand the taste of human food anymore. He knew the demon could tell by his patience in consuming his food that he rather didn't enjoy it like he had used to. No. Although it seemed useless to even have the butler prepare food anymore, he _was_ his butler. He was to do everything he did before with just as much effort as he ever put in.

The only thing he found worthwhile to eat were the souls he collected. In the past four months of the youth's 'death,' the pair had been hunting down criminals and capturing them at the brink of death. Sebastian was ordered to bring them before the mercy of his young master who would devour their sinful souls, satisfying his demonic lust. In a way, it was exactly what they had been doing before, but they simply got rid of the delinquents by a different means. Hardly a humane method, both agreed, but neither cared. As far as they were concerned, any one who could commit such foul acts deserved nothing less.

Ciel watched as his butler worked his gloved hands, setting the small, delicate cup upon its matching plate and pouring the contents of the tea pot into it. Today, the designs were a rather complex series of blue and silver shapes, meshing together to create something that almost could have been seen through a kaleidoscope. A rather interesting decoration, the young earl thought as he took the cup in hand, his two eyes roaming over the distinct pattern with almost an expression of dislike.

Sebastian caught the gaze, remaining silent for the time being before he acted upon his servant instinct.

"Is the china not to your liking, Bocchan?"

"No. Not at all." Ciel replied, setting the cup down as if he wouldn't dare touch the liquid inside it. "It looks like a scribbling mess a child could have made."

"My apologies, master. I shall fetch another. It will only take a short moment-"

"What is that smell?" Ciel interrupted, ignoring his butler as he brushed his bangs away from his eyes.

"Jasmine tea, young master. I had it imported from a specific brewer who was very highly commended for it. Does it also not reach your expectations?"

"No. It doesn't."

Sebastian remained unreadable as he straightened up, retrieving the cup with the steaming tea still swirling inside, placing it upon his cart before he returned his master's gaze, lips forming a passive smile.

"Will there be anything else, young master?"

"Mm," Ciel nodded softly, arms still at his sides as he searched that emotionless slate of his servant's. How incredibly masked he was. He could not see anything in those red eyes that looked at him ever so submissively, ready to obey at his very command. He remained still as ever, gloved hands at his sides, pocket watch perfectly chained to his vest and hiding in his front pocket. How stubbornly loyal he was. Why wouldn't he show him his utter defeat? His utter despair? Why would he not break that perfect act of his and plead to leave his side.

"Is there something wrong, young master? Is my uniform _also_ not to your liking?" Sebastian tilted his head, his silky black hair falling in front of his left eye as that smile still persisted, ever glowing in the sunlight that stretched across the room, accenting his already pale skin with the sheen of the morning light.

"That will be all, Sebastian. Make some new tea. One that doesn't smell so horrid nor weak. I am not in the mood for waiting."

"Yes, my Lord."

The butler bowed, leaving the young earl alone once again, taking the cart with him. The door shut behind him, his gloved hands returning to his sides. His smile dropped, his eyes narrowing. As he began to push the cart, thoughts started to run through the demon's head. What was Ciel up to? The young boy had always been plotting something in that clever head of his, but almost never had it been about _him_.

Sebastian gave a mild sigh. He told himself he shouldn't be so surprised. It wasn't like this was then. This was now. And now meant the young earl was no longer a human. He was no longer that child he had been so expertly cultivating so he might harvest him and devour the magnificence outcome of his tedious labor. No longer was that soul his. Yet it remained in that demon's body, showing in those fierce eyes and that wicked determination. It lingered in the air like a ghostly aura, tempting him at every second he was by his side. Forever, he was chained by his side. How painfully _frustrating_ it was to be right beside the child, the soul right in his reach but intangible in his grasp. Never to be touched by him.

Sebastian often thought back on that day.

Blood. Blood spurted so colorfully. So freely. So profusely from the demon's chest. Sebastian ground the emerald blade further into that chest, the other's stifled cries bringing some sense of victory within him. Some sense of hope.

Even so, Sebastian carefully reached into the others' front pocket, retrieving a spare set of glasses which the other had informed him would be there. He placed the spectacles upon the bridge of the demon's nose, sliding them until they laid in front of his golden eyes.

"A long, long, idle life as a demon... If Alois Trancy has created a stir in it...his soul might've been worth tearing apart as well."

The choked words brought a subtle smile to Sebastian's face as he looked down upon the other.

"I'm impressed that you're so talkative with a fatal wound like this."

"Yes... but my end is about to come."

"Well then, let us have your last words."

"Yes..." he pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose as a final act of his prideful self. "Passion into insincerity, lies into truth, and a stray dog into an earl. That's what makes a..." his voice suddenly became weak and almost inaudible as his time had finally run out. Straining to express his final words, the demon managed to finish. "..butler..."

Sebastian stood as those golden eyes closed, never to open again. He stared at that man's stone cold face, his red eyes searching.

"Whose butler did you die as, Claude?"

He leaped up, leaving the body of the other impaled on that broken face of the cliff, speeding off to find the other demon that held his master captive in her wicked arms. He could hear her smooth, soothing voice. He caught a glimpse of her stark, white hair, streaming out behind her against the wind as she stood, facing the open sea. Her back was turned to him, her hands hidden in front of her.

"Our happiness has come."

The wind blasted against each demon's bodies, the sea crashing against the stone walls of the island cliffs.

"Oh! Master... Claude acknowledged you," she turned to face Sebastian, her lavender eyes glowing. "The contract between my master and I is now fulfilled. All you have to do now is kill me. Your young master will get his body back. However..." The ground began to tremble beneath their feet, the island shaking with a large quake. "..even if he gets his body back, Ciel Phantomhive will be as good as a dead person to you."

Sebastian gasped in a mixture of shock and fear as Hannah began to step back, her eyes still fixated upon him.

"Our happiness now comes to a conclusion. Ciel Phantomhive is..." She took another step, plummeting down to the gray sea, Ciel wrapped in her arms. Sebastian lunged forwards, his hands outstretched as he tried to reach for his master, his eyes wide.

Hannah spoke her words, her pleasant voice speaking those dreaded words to him. His eyes widened as realization struck him.

For once in his long life, Sebastian was afraid.

They tumbled down into the sea, Ciel growing smaller in his red eyes as he watched them fall. He jumped after them, sending his body falling to catch them, his heart thumping in his chest as his mind was set upon Hannah's words. They repeated in his mind, echoing like the beating of his heart.

_Young master..._

_ Young master!_

Sebastian called as the sea began to churn, the tides spinning in a whirlpool as the island collapsed, crumbling to disappear into the depths of the ocean. Ciel still sank. The ocean became deeper and deeper as Sebastian swam after him, his hands at his sides as he swam and swam. He gave a final burst, reaching his master and carrying him in his arms.

_Neither Claude or Sebastian will obtain Ciel's soul._

Sebastian's eyes settled upon the pale face of his Bocchan, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. It thumped against his ribs at a maddening pace, his eyes gazing at those closed eyelids in fear. Waiting.

_Ciel Phantomhive shall awake as a demon. _

A stream of bubbles arose from the boy's lips, his body strengthening with new vigor. At first, the youth tensed within his arms, the boy easing and relaxing after a moment.

And that is when Sebastian watched in horror as those eyes slowly opened. So agonizingly slow. He wished they never opened.

Blood _red_. They looked up at him. Such innocence had left. Such familiarity had been forgotten. They took the place of his master's lovely blue, staining his eyes in _**crimson red**_.

Sebastian's hand clenched, his other hand tearing through his master's chest, those crimson eyes widening as the sea was dyed their color. Blood blossomed in the depths of that ocean, surrounding the demon in that hated... scarlet...**red**.

The butler froze in his steps, the cart coming to a stop as he just stood there, eyes blankly gazing at the ground, his fingers clenched around the cart sides.

That day had remained in his mind every single moment it had occurred. He would never forget those words or that day. He would remember every single minute detail. Every single strand of blood that rose from that chest, his hand ripping through it in his moment of panic. Every single gleam of blood red that gazed up at him. He would not forget that day.

He closed his eyes, head tilted forwards. He would not let Ciel see him like this. He would not allow his young master to see this unsightly appearance of a butler. He would not fail his duty no matter how much it tortured him. No matter how agonizing it was to bare the boy's presence. He would be one_ hell_ of a butler until the end.

He pushed open the kitchen door, gathering a new china set and preparing another batch of refreshments. This time, he chose Black Tea. He thought it rather fitting at the moment, and the flavor was much stronger. Surely, Ciel would be pleased with this. It also would go rather well with the scones he had prepared as well.

Steeping the tea leaves in the steaming water, Sebastian brought the freshly prepared meal back to his master, lightly rapping at his master's door which was promptly earned with consent to enter. The butler poured the black tea into the new china set, this one adorned with a pale fuscia purple and green floral pattern, the rims decorated with hand-painted leaves.

"Forgive me of the delay, young master, but I think you'll find this much more pleasing."

Wordlessly, Ciel took a sip of the hot liquid, the flavored tea trailing down his throat as he took slow and tolerant gulps. The tea would have tasted sublime to any human who drank it, but it was not enjoyed by a human. The boy consumed it all nonetheless, not finding any complaints so far. He reached for a scone next, setting the cup down with careful precision as to not shatter the delicate, thin china, nor mark the pristine white color with unsightly scratches. He bit into the pastry, a blast of fruits and tanginess mixing with the herbal musk of the tea.

Sebastian handed Ciel a newspaper of that day he had snatched from a stand in the town before he worked on opening the curtains while his master ate, the sun streaking through with all its glory. The butler averted his sight on a crow, cawing as it perched atop a gnarled branch of a dead tree, partially blocking the window's view of the dense, over grown forest. Its beady eyes met the demon's for a moment before the bird spread its black wings and flew off.

By the time Sebastian had turned around to tend to his master's needs, the boy had left the half-eaten scone on the night stand, his crimson eyes watching him as he paused in his movements.

"Was the scone cold, young master?"

"No. I'm just not hungry."

Sebastian moved quickly to clear away the dishes, pushing the cart away in order for him to dress his young master. It was nearly the same outfit he wore everyday, simply different colors and maybe a little variation in bows and hats, but the process was the same as always. For so long Sebastian had placed the white undershirt on before pulling the vest and the coat on as well as the pants, but this time... he found himself searching his master's eyes for the pentagram, hidden beneath the red that covered it. It seemed in a strange way, reminding him that the soul was also buried beneath this demon body. Trapped inside this hellish shell.

Quickly averting his gaze, Sebastian popped the buttons of his boots in place before stepping back and awaiting further orders.

"Seems there is a new threat in the town already..."

"Ah, yes. I had been hearing things of this kidnapper. Apparently, he steals young children in the middle of the night. Such a foul thing to do to prey on something so... helpless..." Sebastian added as he folded the nightwear into a neat pile, placing the clothes in the polished dresser.

Ciel seemed to take the adjective as an offense, his jaw clenching slightly as his eye brow rose ever so slightly.

"Indeed."

"What do you plan to do, young master?" Sebastian spoke as he turned to face him once again, his tall figure towering above the child.

The young earl let out a little 'tch' of annoyance, standing up as well to redeem some of his pride. He hated being so small compared to his butler who often would look upon him like a child in his eyes.

"Well, it's only natural that I use the methods I'm used to—no matter how unorthodox they may seem in my... deceased state."

Sebastian frowned slightly, not having expected that answer from his master.

"You mean to use yourself as bait? But if you were to be recognized-"

"-Then I'd better be safely returned before that happens," the young earl smirked. "Just like how things used to be, Sebastian. You will protect me with your life. And in order to do so, you must protect my identity."

"...Yes, Bocchan..."

Ciel narrowed his eyes slightly, contract glowing brightly in his right eye as he gazed up at his butler.

"This is an order, Sebastian! Protect my identity by any means necessary!"

"Yes, my Lord," the butler bowed, hand placed over his heart as he tilted his head forwards, eyes closed and turned towards the floor at his feet.

"Now go. I will call you when I am ready."

Sebastian rose, eyes catching the youth's gaze momentarily before flitting over to the cart, pushing it out the open door before he stopped, his eyes narrowing as his hand flew up to catch the small item that was hurled at his head. He turned his face sideways to look upon the young boy out of the corner of his eye, his palm opening to reveal the knight piece.

"You may as well return that to the set. It's been sitting here idle for far too long. I might want to play a match later," Ciel spoke, his voice cool as he made his point very clear.

"Yes, my Lord."


	7. Chapter 6: Tales from the Grave

**Author's Note: Oh dear... well, this took me a bit, but it's much lengthier than the other chapters I've completed, and it's much more action-packed :D So many things going on in this chapter! xD Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer:**

**Yana Toboso owns Black Butler Characters, I take credit for my OC: Felix Baxter II.**

**Leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys! :) **

**P.S. This chapter is a lot more intense than the others, so watch out for language and such. Any how, thanks! :3**

**~HCA**

* * *

There was much to do in the manor. The building itself was large enough to house numerous servants and still, much would have to be done. But this old, abandoned structure was the place of but one lone servant. Halls needed to be swept. Tables and silver needed to be polished. Dust needed to be collected. Everything needed to be shined and restored. Dinner needed to be prepared. The list was endless, and as the butler saw it, would take him a little more time than he would have preferred.

The small click of his pristine pocket watch as it opened revealed the small ticking hand. Already, the butler was behind schedule. He needed to have this house tended to before dark, and afternoon was almost over.

Gathering his many tools from the utility closet, Sebastian started with his feather duster, whisking away all the dust in sight at a demonic rate. In a matter of minutes, the black blur came to a stop, the butler checking the time once again.

Half past five. Oh, no. This simply would _not_ do.

Hurling the duster above his head, Sebastian cleared the rug away from the hallway with a strong, fluid tug of his arms, the intricate material thrown into the air, all dust shaken off. He snatched the feather duster as it descended, nearly reaching his head. He dusted the area around him in a split second, picking up a broom and dustpan and sweeping up any remnants. Content with his finished task, the servant moved onto the next.

He found himself in the kitchen, every piece of silver laid carefully upon a large, white cloth. He rubbed and rubbed at the metal until it glowed with a glistening shine. He could clearly see his reflection in every valuable item. One by one: spoons, forks, knives, and candlesticks were placed back in their designated resting places, each glimmering with untainted perfection.

While he found himself in the current vicinity, the butler decided to set to work on cooking the master's meal. It was to be lamb meat baked into a pie filled with succulent juices and flavors with various spices and herbs glazed atop the dough and some more savory ingredients for added taste. The lamb had already been stripped from its bones and was ready to begin cooking with. Sebastian removed his gloves with his teeth, tossing them to the side for the time being as he set about preparing the tender meat. He bathed it in an herbal substance, sprinkling on a few seasoning before placing it in a pot and cooking it with some gravy and sauce filling that would be later baked into the pie crust that was already made, the dough having been sitting until it rose with perfection. He flattened it into the circular pan, the tips of his fingers pressing down on the crust edges to give an elegant look to it. The meat would take a while to fully cook, so he removed himself from the kitchen.

The butler took a moment to glance down at the small item in the palm of his gloved hand.

5:43.

My... Time seems to fly when doing your job...

The demon whisked away once more, polishing every wooden furniture in sight until it shone with a clean sheen. The deep wood items were polished with a particular ingredient and method as to preserve the quality of the oak and maple. Each took time, and the butler knew this would be cutting it close—dinner was yet to be served.

Sebastian was not one to leave a task half-finished or completed, so dutifully and determined, the servant polished away at those expensive tables and stands, taking care in each swipe of his hand. There would be no mistakes nor mishaps. He made sure of it.

He stood up once again, throwing the rag into the bucket as he checked the watch once more.

6:01.

Oh dear. There was simply not enough time.

He made his way back to the kitchen, a mouth watering aroma arising from the pot as he lifted the lid, uncovering the juicy flesh inside. He poured the substances into the pie pan, filling it to the brim before he covered it with another layer of dough, brushing on a glaze of sweet nectar and spice before placing it in the oven. This would take at least a half hour to fully cook, by which time his master would surely be hungry and possibly displeased with the lateness of the meal, but at least it had been a more reasonable time than the butler had originally thought.

6:10.

Better, but still not on schedule. Not exactly. Not the routine Sebastian wished to follow. He didn't know how to make it up. He'd done all his tasks and work at the moment. He gave a sigh, greatly disappointed in himself.

I, a Phantomhive butler, have committed something of the greatest offense indeed...

"Sebastian..."

The soft voice of the young earl was familiar enough, but it was the fact that he heard it from outside the kitchen door that caught the demon off guard. He gently pushed the door open a bit to reveal Ciel, his eye patch covering the other glowing eye that stared up at him, brows slightly sunken.

"Yes, my Lord? I'm afraid dinner will not be ready for another half hour or so. I will make you a cup of tea or a small snack if you would li-"

"Very well," the youth interrupted with a nonchalant sigh. It appeared as if something were on the young boy's mind, but the butler did not make it his task to find out what it was. His master would tell him in time. Before turning to prepare the light snack, the amber eyes reached the untidy bow of the ribbon around the earl's neck, the knot askew and the lengths uneven.

"You must stop this habit," the butler offered a subtle smile, kneeling on one knee as he undid the knot with a tug of his slender fingers, evening the ribbon so that each side had the same amount before tying it effortlessly into a presentable fashion. "It'll do you no good."

Ciel scowled lightly at this, his teeth clenched as he bared them up at his butler.

"I see no reason I should stop. After all, you'll be there to correct it. Forever, right, Sebastian?"

Obviously, the comment was meant to be an insult back, but the demon played along well, plastering a gentle smile upon his lips, his auburn eyes closing as he just beamed down at the child.

"Correct."

"Good. I'll be in my office," the young earl muttered before walking away, boots thudding along the rug-covered hallway as he disappeared around the corner. Sebastian watched his small form fade away and vanish before closing the kitchen door, running a hand through his ebony locks and closing his eyes in a deep sigh.

What a clever boy.

It had really been his own fault he was locked into this contract for an eternity. He had even said himself he would remain his faithful butler for all time to come. All with the simple reply: Yes. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if the soul had still been obtainable, but now it was locked within that demon, never to be touched by him. _Specifically_ him. He felt those same emotions of anger and resentment build up inside him again as that memory once again played in his mind like a great masterpiece in the theater. How grand it was to see that...that _witch... _Just take what had been in his grasp for three long years and lock it away. How he despised her...How he despised all of them.

The tea kettle whistled with a high-pitched tone, the steam frantically escaping through the narrow spout. He removed the kettle from the burner, turning the stove off before he set about steeping the leaves in the boiling water. One spoonful of tea leaves for his master, and one for the pot.

It didn't take long at all for the small snack to be prepared, the butler setting the freshly brewed tea and small pastries atop the clothed cart. He pushed it down the hallway, his pace slow and leisurely. He knocked lightly at the slightly ajar door of the office, knowing far better than to simply barge in.

"Come in," Ciel's voice was quiet as the young master looked over more reports of the kidnapper. Pouring over the articles and clues, the earl hardly noticed the butler's presence aside from having given him permission to enter his study.

Sebastian didn't take it personally. He had grown used to the child's manner and wasn't surprised at the sight he saw. He gave a small sigh, the late hour making the open window hardly useful at all. He served his master a cup of tea and a small pastry before closing the shutters, pulling drawing the curtains to a close before picking up the loose pieces of parchment that had scattered about the floor.

His eyes grazed over the content of one in his hand and he immediately was intrigued by the amount of research Ciel had obtained.

"The kidnapper targets only rich children, hmm?"

Ciel looked up from his reading, his eye falling to the cup of tea before him, nodding as he reached for it.

"Yes. Only the children of nobles and high status. It isn't uncommon. The more money they have, the more they will pay."

"Yes... but...is it not curious?" The demon tilted his head ever so slightly as his gaze rose from the scripture. "That no ransom has been asked?"

"..Perhaps... but that may come in time," Ciel offered in return. Indeed, the fact that no ransom had been asked nor given for the return of the children didn't quite make sense. In fact, no word of where they were or of the kidnapper had been made after the snatch. It was almost as if the kidnapper stole the children for nothing but for its own sadistic pleasure. "There have only been two instances, but it is odd..."

"Ah, what's this?" The butler averted his attention to an invitation. The letter was written upon fine, smooth paper of the finest quality and the words were skillfully printed. However, it seemed the name for whom it was addressed to was not in fact 'Ciel Phantomhive' but rather, 'Edward Cannup'. "I do hope Mister Cannup won't require this," Sebastian cocked an eyebrow.

"I found it on the street earlier this morning."

Sebastian widened his eyes, brows stitching together slightly.

"Young master, I would advise you not to leave this mansion, especially without my company. I must say that was a particularly bold move..."

"Enough, Sebastian..." Ciel commanded firmly, cerulean fluctuating towards its true red. "I am more than capable of getting some fresh air and not causing any trouble on my own," he sneered, taking a sip of the tea. "Besides... if I had gotten into a problem, you'd come to my side. Wouldn't you."

The butler was silenced, his amber eyes looking down at the floor as he bowed, stiffly and slowly. He said nothing, deciding not to comment further on the subject. He met the earl's cold gaze, never once looking away until Ciel sighed, taking his attention off of him only to take another sip of his drink.

"The invitation is from the Baxter family of Nobles. They are among the top richest in terms of elitists, though, this was quite peculiar as most have not stepped inside those walls for over five years now, after the death of the late Mrs. Samantha Baxter."

"The Baxters..." Sebastian began, pulling up his gloves and fixing he small wrinkle in his tail coat with a sharp tug of the hems. "I haven't heard that name in a while. I believe she died in a carriage accident. Both her husband and her only son survived. She was unfortunately sitting on the other side when the other carriage collided."

"Their son, Felix Baxter the second, lives alone with his father in that mansion. No one has heard from them in five years, then all of a sudden they decide to throw a ball. Sounds like an invitation for some trouble as well as half the city..."

"That's quite probable. Is that why you wish to attend?"

"It does seem possible that the kidnapper might try to take Felix Baxter II tonight, and that's why I wish to be present. If it happens, I want to be there to respond and catch this bastard red-handed."

"This will be very risky, young master. You made yourself quite well known among the elites—let's hope they have forgotten your face," Sebastian gave a barely noticeable smile, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

"There's only one way to find out."

"It would seem so," the butler replied as he glanced down at his pocket watch, his smile growing. "Young master, dinner is ready."

* * *

Lines of carriages pulled to a stop before the glowing mansion. It looked rather regal with the giant columns and pillars greeting them at the entrance. It almost appeared to be a landmark from past times, and it surely was delivered the same respect. Lanterns bordered the large graveled area where the carriages halted to allow their passengers to leave, their fiery lights dancing and swaying to the orchestral music that emanated from the large, double iron-adorned wooden doors at the top of the stairs.

"I don't like the look of this place. It reminds me of a prison..." Ciel muttered in distaste as the carriage rolled onwards, the iron gates flanking their right and left for what seemed an endless eternity.

Sebastian offered an inward chuckle, his eyes also following the rows and rows of iron stakes that passed by without an end in sight. "You have not even seen the mansion, young master. You shouldn't judge so quickly."

Ciel snorted, a small 'tch' escaping his clenched teeth.

"I may do as I please. I have the right to judge anything I see."

"Ah, there we are."

The fences suddenly veered off to encompass the large gathering area, their daunting presence released as they disappeared behind the thick, trimmed bushes. The carriage slowed, stopping after a short moment. Sebastian moved to open the coach door, slipping through before allowing Ciel to exit, the young earl's sight landing upon the monumental building before him. Even though he tried not to show it, he was awestruck. He hadn't expected such a display from someone such as the Baxters. The style surely differed from most architecture in London.

"You look a little pale, Bocchan."

"That's because it's cold!" Ciel snapped back at the butler's gentle, almost sarcastic tone. He knew perfectly well when Sebastian was trying to express his pride in having caught him off guard. It was a rather cynical game the two played constantly. Battling each others wits and predictions to see who would dominate the other in terms of righteousness and brains. It was obvious Ciel had lost this round.

"My apologies, young master," Sebastian grinned charismatically, his pale skin shone with an orange hue from the circle of lanterns surrounding them. Ciel made a scornful expression as he led his butler towards the entrance to the manor where two servants awaited them.

"Invitation please?" one of the two asked graciously, a welcoming smile plastered upon their professional faces.

"I am Edward Cannup, and this is my advisor," Ciel bluffed flawlessly, flashing the two his invitation before he moved forwards, the doors opening for them to reveal the bustle inside. The room was alight with joy and life. Every where, people talked and chattered amongst themselves, the great floor in the center of the room alive with dancing and music. Refreshments were placed in every corner of the room and along the walls. Servants and butlers carried trays to the guests, offering drinks and small treats.

"It is rather crowded," Ciel spoke quietly.

"Yes, it is," Sebastian replied with a smooth smile, his eyes darting about the floor and the floor above where others were entertained on the balconies. It was a swarm of activity, and he could hardly focus because of it.

He leaned down to whisper in the young earl's ear, the music rather loud when mixed with the amount of discussion and laughter.

"Bocchan, I think it is best if we found the young Felix Baxter before wasting our time looking for a needle in a haystack. If we find him, then we can simply wait for the napper to do the same."

"Alright," Ciel replied, shifting his hat lower on his head, his black bangs covering the eyepatch. He'd have to remain as unnoticeable as possible. Sebastian understood this and set off to find the young boy. It was rather frustrating as more and more people flooded towards him, making it difficult to travel around very far without passing a few apologetic smiles and pardons.

The Earl Phantomhive also did his part trying to spot the host of this party. He looked for the Mister Felix Baxter, the husband, but could not find him anywhere. It was rather odd...

There... on the stair case top leading to the balconies, there were a group of women surrounding a boy. His hair was a very pale blonde, almost appearing gray in the bright lights of the chandeliers. He wore a brown coat over a tan vest, his white blouse poking out around his collar where a red bow was fastened around his neck. He wore brown pants and black boots. Overall, his appearance would be seen worn by someone of nobility. That had to be him.

Ciel began to make his way towards the staircase, traveling along the border of the dance floor, nearly against the wall. The music continued to flow so eloquently and beautifully, his eyes set upon the noble as he conversed with the group of women. He almost reached the foot of the stairs, his ears tuning in to hear the topic of their discussion.

"Oh, how awful!"

"You must be careful, young Felix! We wouldn't want to lose you!"

"Oh, gracious no! What a horrible person to steal such innocent children such as yourself-"

"I wouldn't worry about me. I'm not afraid of a kidnapper. In fact, if anyone should be afraid, it should be whomever he is because he is going to be caught soon enough. You'll see," the noble's gentle tone made the women swoon at his confidence, the young boy appearing to be no younger than fourteen or fifteen. He was taller than Ciel, and much stronger in appearance. He didn't seem to notice as the earl approached, raising his foot to take that first step up.

"Oh! Dear, I'm so sorry, yes I am!"

That...that voice... that high-pitched squeal followed by a crash of glass.

"What a klutz I am!"

Ciel turned his neck sharply to stare in complete and utter shock at the familiar maid just a few meters away. Red hair tied into pigtails and thick lenses inside circle-framed glasses. It was none other than Mey-Rin.

The commotion had drawn quite a few pairs of eyes, including the noble. Felix turned his attention to the mess in the middle of the room, his smile faltering slightly.

"Mey-Rin, are you alright?" he called, excusing himself as he brushed by the group of women to tend to his maid. He looked at the broken pitcher, the citrus juice everywhere on the floor. He brought a hand to his brow, frowning slightly. "What a mess..."

"Oh, sir! I'm sorry, sir! I'll clean it up right away, yes! I'll clean it up, yes I will!" Mey-Rin scrambled to her feet, slipping on the wet floor on her way out, sliding face-first across the room, her glasses crooked on her nose.

"Be careful!" Felix called after her, flinching as she slid on her way out, her shoes squeaking as she rose to her feet again, hiding a small limp in her step. He ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, turning his attention towards the watching audience. "It's alright everyone! Just watch your step. The night is still young," he smiled, cuing the music to continue as the party gradually grew lively once again.

Ciel was still frozen, stunned and unable to move. He stared at the shattered glass on the floor, his breath hitched in his throat.

"Bocchan!" Sebastian snatched him from the stairs, pulling him down and covering his mouth as he hid in the shadows underneath the staircase. Ciel released his breath, looking up at his butler with wide and horrified eyes.

"M-Mey-Rin..."

"Yes... I _heard_..." Sebastian sighed slightly, pointing towards the refreshments, Ciel following his gaze. "And there is dear Bardroy and Finnian..." The demon spoke with such reluctance and displeasure, his eyes darkened.

Ciel swallowed as he set his sights upon his two former servants. Bardroy was placing some more snacks on the table—all of which seemed very, _very_ crispy and over done—Finnian taking the time to eat a few before pinning another of those red hair-clips in his bangs to keep them from falling into his face. As always, they seemed nervous wrecks, their incapability to perform their duties correctly still the same even after these four months.

"What are we supposed to do?" Ciel growled, now landing eyes upon Tanaka who sat at one of the tables, drinking green tea in the same exact cup he had in the Phantomhive manor.

"It seems we'll just have to be extremely careful with our investigation. Perhaps you should try and find a quiet corner while I search this out myself?"

Ciel, though very hesitant to allow this, believed it was best. He was still not used to his demon body and he didn't want to do anything foolish in this risky environment. He still did not know how to move as expertly as Sebastian did, the demon probably best suited to a situation such as this. And to top it all off, Ciel was not confident looking around with _all four_ of his former servants roaming about.

"Very well," Ciel answered grimly, his voice quiet and his eyes narrowed to show his dissatisfaction. Sebastian dipped his head, his gaze lifting as he began to make his way into the chaos once more, searching for the young noble.

It didn't take him long to find him, the youth certainly popular with the ladies. They seemed to fall at his feet, victims to the boy's innocence and self-confidence. The demon watched the boy as he continued to tell a story of his mother's death to the women, each of them watching with such attentive ears.

"My mother, she was a beautiful woman. I didn't know why her life had to be taken, but it was. It was. In an instant, she was no longer there for me. All I can remember is seeing her smiling face then... the next moment the carriage was struck with such force, I barely managed to comprehend what was happening. Everything was spinning and shattering glass and splintering wood were tossed in the air. My mother's head went flying into the glass, her body shielding my father and I from the rest of it. In a way, she saved us..."

"Oh, you poor thing..."

The womens' tears were streaked across their faces, some offering small pecks to the boy's forehead in attempts to comfort him even though he insisted otherwise. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. It all seemed so... strangely perfect. Five years cut off from the world. Five years of never hearing a word from the boy and he suddenly decides to host a party and his father remains to be seen. And not to mention the boy's demeanor. It didn't match up...

"Hors d'oeuvres?"

"No, thank you,"

"They're really good!"

Sebastian froze. That voice... oh no...

"Hey! What about you, sir?"

Sebastian's body went rigid when he sensed the orange-haired boy come towards him. He was facing away, his face not visible as he dare not turn around...

"Hors d'oeuvres, sir?" Finnie asked with a beaming smile, tilting his head as he closed his eyes. The man cloaked in black had his back turned towards him and did not seem keen on facing him anytime soon.

"Sir?" Finnie asked with just as much enthusiasm, practically thrusting the platter of appetizers at the man's neck, the aroma reaching the demon's nose and making it cringe at the burnt stench. Most certainly Bardroy's handiwork.

"No, thank you..."

"Awe, come on! You have to try at least one! They're the best hors d'oeuvres around!" The boy began to skip his way in front of him, those large blue eyes closed as he grinned widely at the butler.

In an instant, Sebastian had his coat off, the cloth blocking the young boy's vision as it was hurled towards him, Finnian throwing up the tray of food in surprise. Sebastian expertly extended his hand to catch the tray of appetizers, placing it in the gardener's palm before taking off at the same time, leaving the orange-haired boy dumbfounded with a crumpled cloak in his arms.

That was close. Too close. It was just like that damned Finnie to be so eccentric and determined. Sebastian knew that the boy would go looking for him, so the only option was to hide for a moment until he had finally lost interest. He found a closed door near the foot of the stairs, entering it and closing it behind him. A long corridor was presented in front of him, the cream colored walls decorated with panels of rich red and mahogany floors to complement them.

Everything seemed so clean and pristine. It amazed the butler. Surely those three weren't the cause of this, but he hadn't seen any other servants aside from the two outside, however, they looked like mere hired hands for tonight. He found himself straying down the hallway, unable to curb the sensation in this pit of his stomach that there was something more to this boy and this mansion than what met the wandering eye.

The hallway took a sharp split to the right and the left. The butler took a moment to carefully choose his plan, a lovely aroma grabbing his attention. It seemed to come from the slightly opened door at the left. He followed the pleasant smell, peering into the room to see the source. It was the kitchen. Upon the stove was a pot, the contents inside creating that delectable scent which was also accompanied by the herbs and spices laid out on the table. It would appear as if someone left the kitchen when midway through making a meal.

_Skillful cooking...this couldn't possibly be Bardroy's work... _

Sebastian wandered the kitchen a few moments more, lifting the pot cover to feel a hot blast of steam rise from beneath it. The contents inside were revealed to be potatoes and pork, each boiling in a seasoned broth.

_It's simply impossible for it to be Bardroy's cooking... _

But that begged the question, whose cooking was it then?

He exited the kitchen, his curiosity rising every second he wandered about. He continued along his way, going down the rest of the hallway that would be to the right of the main wing. It appeared rather dark in comparison to the other segments of the corridor. It seemed unkempt and dirty. Spider webs hung from the corners of the ceiling, little arachnids glaring down at him with their many eyes. It was cooler, the atmosphere holding some strange aura that the other areas had lacked. Something was horribly off...

Suddenly, the air was filled with a not quite as pleasant stench. It was suffocating and repulsive. It had to have been some sort of mixture of chemicals. Sebastian began to walk at a faster pace, following the pungent odor of the chemical gas to a door, the substance seeping out from underneath the hinges. He carefully turned the knob, the door creaking open little by little.

Widening his eyes, Sebastian stared at the bloodied body of the Sir Felix Baxter whom had been absent all this time. He know knew why. The corpse was hung from the ceiling, blood seeping from the gashes in his chest. A small, emptied canister gleamed from beside the dresser, the small container probably housing the gas at some point until it was released.

Sebastian gasped, turning his eyes towards a spider that dangled in front of him, dropping down from its web and lowering itself to meet the demon at eye level. The spider suddenly became fuzzy, splitting into two different pictures. Sebastian blinked, correcting his vision.

The gas...it was affecting him.

Sebastian stumbled back, closing the door, struggling to see straight as the hallway began to rock back and forth, winding in impossible directions but all converging back into the real image when he blinked.

It shouldn't be affecting him... he was a demon...he should be immune to the hallucinations the gas induced, yet they continued to intensify. Soon, blinking didn't correct it all. He staggered back the way he came, gritting his teeth as he concentrated as much as he could, his focus sporadic and uneven as the gas tampered with his mind's well-being.

"That was rather careless of you, Michaelis..."

Sebastian spun around to face the spider demon, his crimson eyes still cold and glaring despite his predicament.

"I have to say, I'm rather upset... you shouldn't be alive..." Sebastian spoke as clearly as he could manage, his heart beginning to pound inside him as the gas seeped into his brain, infecting him with its discord and chaos. "Faustus..."

Claude let a smug smirk grace his thin lips as he matched that scarlet glare with gold, his narrowed eyes hateful behind his lenses.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but maybe you'll have better luck staying in your grave..."

Claude's hand sprung three golden silverware knives, all three flying straight towards Sebastian, hitting him square on his shoulder as the demon turned to flee around the bend. Sebastian paid no heed to the pain in his flesh as the knives sunk in, the gas making his vision blurry and uncoordinated. It didn't stop him though. He needed to get Ciel out of here.

Remembering the turns he took on his way here, Sebastian managed to find his way towards the main hallway without much difficulty aside from the occasional bump into the wall. He nearly had reached the door when Claude hurled a fork at the back of his head. Sebastian ducked in time, the utensil digging into the wood of the wall.

The Phantomhive butler would've loved to return the favor had he not been so preoccupied with getting his master to safety and losing Claude on his tail. He would need to make sure the other demon would not be able to follow them to the mansion. If he knew their whereabouts, it would prove quite disastrous.

"Fleeing already, Michaelis?" Claude taunted with malice, sending another series of silverware in the butler's direction, the door slamming to collect them as Sebastian sprinted towards Ciel, not caring about the commotion he was causing.

"Sebastian!" Ciel gasped as his butler grabbed him by the waist, bolting down the floor towards the doors, skidding to a halt as a flash of black blocked their way, Claude's hair tousled as he landed in a hurry, golden eyes glinting in sadistic hunger. He grinned at the sight before him.

"Still haven't let go?" Claude spat, Ciel's eye widening in complete shock. Everything was going so wrong. Everyone's eyes were on him. Mey-Rin's. Bardroy's. Finnian's. Tanaka's. If they stayed any longer, they would be discovered.

"Sebastian, get us out of here! It's an order!"

"Yes, my lord," the demon responded, launching both him and Ciel into the air as he balanced atop a chandelier, swinging to a window and crashing through, screams and cries of alarm left in his wake.

Claude glanced to his master, Felix's eyes narrowed as he sent the silent command. The now Baxter butler understood, throwing open the doors as he chased after the two.

"Sebastian, I thought you killed him..." Ciel hissed under his breath as he held tightly onto Sebastian's neck, the demon running with all his strength and speed through the forest, knowing Claude was not far behind.

"I thought so too, young master," he replied earnestly, swerving to the right to avoid a sharp projectile that had been sent straight towards them from behind.

"Hang on tightly, Bocchan..." Sebastian instructed, suddenly sliding to a dead stop, using his heel to turn around to face Claude at the same time. He faced the other demon with an expression of pure hate and anger, his eyes saying it all.

Claude stopped as he did, a gold knife in hand as he looked down upon them from the tree tops. As usual, his face was unreadable. It was expressionless and showed no emotion. No empathy. No sympathy. Nothing.

"Michaelis, I will destroy you."

"I was ordered to do the same to you. I _never_ fail an order."

"Then why do I appear before you now?" Claude sneered, throwing the knife towards the other's chest where Ciel was held tightly in his arms, Sebastian evading the blow with a quick sidestep. He retaliated this time with a few knives of his own, each in quick succession of the other as they barely missed Claude's head, his lithe body quickly moving along the branches of the trees.

Ciel hung on tightly as Sebastian said, still in disbelief that Claude was still alive. How was this possible? How could he have survived? How... his eyes traveled to look upon Sebastian's face, the demon's attention focused upon Claude solely at the moment to not notice the young earl's disappointment in his eyes. The sharp realization. The disgust.

Sebastian had lied to him.

That's the only way Ciel could explain this. It was the only possible explanation. Claude, even as a demon, could not cheat death. Sebastian, though he had sworn never to do exactly that, had lied to him.

"You cannot defeat me, Michaelis. You never have. I'm stronger than before..." Claude jumped down from his perch in the trees, the knife in his hand barely an inch from Sebastian's neck until the Phantomhive butler jumped back. He parried another blow with his wrist, each demon moving with inhuman speed, blow after blow after blow.

The knife suddenly lurched towards Ciel, the earl tensing as the blade nearly pierced the skin of his cheek, Sebastian twisting his body harshly, the knife sinking into his wrist as he tried his best to protect his master. A thin line of scarlet was drawn upon the pale skin of the red-eyed butler, his brows knitted together as he looked upon the other with such loathing eyes.

Claude prepared to lunge again, his hand glowing as his master called him. He paused in his movements, leaping back just as Sebastian intended to take advantage of the situation. The Baxter butler gave a pointed look in return, beginning to back away.

"This is not over..." he spat before turning heel and disappearing in a flash.

Sebastian stood still for a moment, watching as Claude faded into nothing, his anger still painted upon his features in a blatantly obvious fashion.

"Sebastian... take me home..." Ciel spoke, his eyes hidden by his long black bangs but it was unmistakable in his tone that he was not pleased with him at all.

"Yes, my Lord..."

The travel home was spent in complete silence between the two, Ciel still held firmly in Sebastian's arms, each refusing to break the utter lack of words between them as the friction continued to exist. Sebastian knew that Ciel was angered. There were a great many reasons why the youth could have been set off tonight, but the butler was not entirely sure why it was directed at him alone. He could feel the tense body of the youth in his arms, the rigid back and shoulders not relaxing at any time in the journey.

It wasn't until Sebastian had placed the earl in bed, clothing him in his night wear when either dared speak.

"Sebastian...come here..."

The Phantomhive butler did as he was told, instantly rewarded with a harsh slap to the face, his cheek burning in pain at the strike. He gave no emotion, simply looking at his master with a plain expression.

"You..." Ciel growled, clenching his hands as he tightened his grip on the sheets, his knuckles paling. "You lied... You said you never would lie..."

"I did not lie," Sebastian replied firmly, his eyes betraying nothing as he answered him. Another slap struck him, his cheek throbbing.

"You..._lied_..."

"I will say again, Bocchan. I'll say it until you believe me. I did not lie. I do not lie."

"Then explain why he was there... explain why this happened."

"I..." Sebastian's voice trailed off, his head tilted forwards slightly as he dipped his chin. "I cannot."

Another slap.

"Then how **dare** you tell me you didn't lie if you cannot even justify your answer! You lied, Sebastian. You lied to me. How many other times have you lied to my face? How many times have you fed me meaningless, pointless, worthless **_shit_**?"

Sebastian let his brows crease slightly, his eyes lifting to meet cerulean with an unwavering gaze.

"Never."

Ciel balled his hands into fists, his teeth bared in an angry snarl.

"Get. Out."

Sebastian's eyes widened slightly, his stance freezing a moment at those words. A rare emotion of almost worry crossed his features, his gloved hand reaching out instinctively.

"Bocchan..."

"Get out!" Ciel bellowed in rage, his voice raised to a level Sebastian had never even heard before. It held nothing but pure disgust for him. He could feel those eyes look at him with such shame and loathing.

Obediently, Sebastian bowed, placing his gloved hand on his heart as he bowed. Faithfully and loyally he bowed. Submitted like the servant he was. Bowing as deeply as he could, Sebastian rose to his feet, his amber eyes distant and clouded. He left the room, closing the door behind himself as he stared down the long, dark corridor. Hand finding his forehead and rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes.

For the second time in his life, Sebastian Michaelis was worried.


End file.
